JOURNALS  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

EMMA  CULLUM  CORTAZZO 

1865-1880 


-j^°! 


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EMMA  CULLUM  CORTAZZO 

1842-1918 


Meadville,  P». 

Printed  by  E.  H.   Shabtli 

1919 


CLT 

A  4 


Arthur  Cullum — Eebecca  Meade 
'The  Loyalist" 


H.  J.  Huidekoper — Rebecca  Colhoon  Arthur  Cullum — Harriet  Sturges 

1776—1854  1779—1839  1780—1829  1781—1862 


Alfred  Huidekoper — Catherine  Cullum 
1810—1892  1812—1888 


EMMA  CULLUM  COETAZZO 
b.    1842  in  Meadville,  Pa. 
m.  1866  to  Oreste  Cortazzo. 
d.    1918  in  Lakewood,  N.  J. 


"Here  I  laid  down  my  pencil,  thinking  these  my  few 
reminiscences  worth  preserving,  were  ended.  But  my  dear 
child  says:  'They  are  only  begun': — and  that  she  wishes 
me  to  write  of  myself,  letting  what  I  have  written  form 
a  background  to  my  personal  recollections.  The  'back- 
ground' seems  to  me  far  more  worthy  of  being  the  fore- 
ground, but  as  her  wish  has  ever  been  my  law,  I  must 
yield,  and  will  continue  by  writing  of  myself,  though  it 
must  be  a  tale  largely  of  commonplace  things  and  an  un- 
eventful life." 


THE  BACKGROUND 

Of  my  Grandfather  and  Grandmother  Huidekoper,  I 
write  nothing.  The  latter  died  before  my  birth,  and  my 
beloved  Grandfather  is  so  admirably  pictured  in  his 
' '  Life, ' '  by  Mrs.  Tiffany,  and  in  my  Father 's  sketch  of  him, 
and  in  his  ' '  Pomona  Hall, ' '  that  nothing  I  could  say  would 
add  to  what  has  already  been  excellently  told. 

Of  my  Grandfather  Cullum  I  know  too  little.  He  died 
while  my  Mother  was  young.  He  was  born  in  New  York 
on  November  20,  1780.  When  he  was  three  years  old  his 
Father,  also  an  Arthur  Cullum,  was  exiled  to  Nova  Scotia, 
as  a  Loyalist.  He  is  mentioned  in  the  Appendix  to  Sabine 's 
"History  of  the  Loyalists  of  the  American  Revolution"  as 
follows:  "Arthur  Cullum,  a  Loyalist  Associator  at  New 
York,  1782,  to  remove  in  the  following  year  to  Shelburne, 
Nova  Scotia,  with  his  family  of  seven  persons."  I  infer 
that  the  Loyalist  died  in  Nova  Scotia,  probably  in  Halifax, 
where  he  later  removed.  A  child  was  born  shortly  after 
the  landing  of  the  exiles  on  the  barren  and  inhospitable 
shores  of  the  colony,  as  the  birth,  death  and  burial  of 
"John,  infant  son,  etc.,"  is  recorded  in  the  register  of  the 
Parish  Church  of  Shelburne.  The  Mother  of  this  infant 
and  wife  of  the  Loyalist,  hence  the  Mother  of  my  Grand- 
father, was  Rebecca  Meade.  In  the  Registrar's  Office  at 
Shelburne  appears  the  record  of  a  grant  of  one  town  lot 
and  one  water  lot,  by  the  British  Crown,  to  Arthur  Cullum, 
in  1787,  but  it  seems  doubtful  whether  he  ever  took  up  this 
land  or  remained  in  Shelburne,  then  a  mere  village,  and  it 
seems  probable  that  he  sought  a  home  in  Halifax,  where 
more  of  the  comforts  of  life  and  better  means  of  educa- 
tion existed.  My  Grandfather,  at  the  time  of  the  migration 
from  New  York,  must  have  been  three  years  old  and  his 
son.  General  Cullum,  wrote  of  him  as  follows,  on  reading 


8  THE  BACKGROUND 

in  Sabine  the  reference  to  the  elder  CuUum,  his  Grand- 
father : 

''This  Cullum  was  doubtless  my  Grandfather,  and  my 
Father,  then  but  three  years  old,  would  have  been  one 
of  the  famly  of  seven  persons.  It  seems  that  in  the  Sep- 
tember previous  to  the  evacuation  of  New  York,  November 
25,  1783,  upwards  of  12,000  men,  women  and  children  em- 
barked at  the  city,  at  Long  Island,  and  at  Staten  Island  for 
Nova  Scotia  and  the  Bahamas.  Those  who  went  north 
landed  at  Port  Roseway,  now  Shelburne,  and  at  St.  John, 
where  many  utterly  destitute  were  supplied  with  food  at 
the  public  charge  and  were  obliged  to  live  in  huts  built  of 
bark  and  rough  boards.  'Among  the  banished  ones,'  says 
Sabine,  vol.  I,  pp.  91-93,  'thus  doomed  to  misery,  were  per- 
sons whose  hearts  and  hopes  had  been  as  true  as  Washing- 
ton's own The  mischief  all  done,  thousands 

ruined  and  banished,  new  British  colonies  founded,  ani- 
mosities to  continue  for  generations  made  certain,  the  vio- 
lent Whigs  of  Massachusetts,  New  York  and  Virginia  were 
satisfied;  all  this  accomplished  and  the  Statute  book  was 
divested  of  its  most  objectionable  enactments,  and  a  few  of 
the  Loyalists  returned  to  their  old  homes,  but  by  far  the 
greater  number  died  in  banishment.  Of  those  who  re- 
turned from  Nova  Scotia,  of  which  I  have  often  heard 
Father  speak,  and  of  his  own  residence  there,  were  prob- 
ably all  that  remained  of  Grandfather's  family.  In  what 
year  the  return  occurred  I  cannot  ascertain,  but  it  must 
have  been  after  some  years,  as  Father,  I  think,  received  his 
early  education  in  Nova  Scotia,  returning  to  New  York 
when  yet  a  boy. ' ' 

I  recall  a  family  interest  expressed  in  Judge  Halibur- 
ton's  works,  no  doubt  on  account  of  Grandfather's  resi- 
dence in  Nova  Scotia. 

Of  Rebecca  Meade,  I  know  only  that  her  daughter-in- 
law,  my  Grandmother  Cullum,  spoke  of  her  with  great 
admiration  and  affection.  A  silhouette  of  her  is  in  the 
possession  of  Mrs.  H.  H.  Howell,  of  New  York,  and  copies 
of  this  I  own.  She  must  have  returned  to  New  York  about 
1806,  as  she  is  mentioned  in  a  directory  of  that  date.  Her 
eldest  son  George,  and  Arthur,  my  Grandfather,  are  men- 
tioned as  being  there  in  1801. 


THE  BACKGROUND  9 

Grandfather  Cullum  married  in  1803,  December  18th, 
at  Fairfield,  Connecticut,  Harriet  Sturges,  of  that  place. 
I  do  not  know  in  what  way  my  Grandfather  became 
acquainted  with  Miss  Sturges,  but  as  there  were  Sturgeses 
and  Barlows  from  Fairfield  and  its  neighbourhood  among 
the  exiles  to  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick,  it  is  prob- 
able that  the  several  families  may  have  been  acquainted 
there  during  the  exile,  and  that  in  this  way  the  young 
Arthur  Cullum  may  have  been  led  to  visit  Faii'field  and  so 
have  met  Harriet  Sturges.  They  were  married,  as  I  have 
said,  in  1803  and  lived  in  New  York,  where  several  chil- 
dren, among  them  my  Mother,  were  born  to  them.  Mr.  Cul- 
lum seems  to  have  been  associated  in  business  with  Mr.  Cor- 
nelius Berrian,  and  in  the  Record  Office  in  New  York  ap- 
pear entries  regarding  the  purchase  by  the  partners  of  a 
lot  of  land  in  Reed  Street  from  one  Philip  Jacob.  This 
land  had  formerly  been  the  old  negro  burying  ground.  On 
Mr.  Cullum 's  removal  to  the  west  Mr.  Berrian  purchased 
his  partner's  share.  They  would  also  appear  to  have  jointly 
purchased  some  land  in  Plattsburg,  N.  Y.  This  land  Grand- 
father Cullum  apparently  retained  as,  at  his  death  and  in 
the  distribution  of  his  estate,  it  was  left  to  his  daughters 
Catherine  and  Malvina.  This  is  mentioned  in  family  let- 
ters, but  the  daughters  seem  to  have  been  careless  or  indif- 
ferent about  paying  taxes  upon  the  property  and  it  was  so 
long  neglected  that  eventually  it  was  sold  in  default  of  pay- 
ment. I  recall  that  my  Mother,  when  once  at  Saratoga, 
greatly  wished  to  go  to  Plattsburg  to  see  where  this  prop- 
erty had  lain — lost  through  negligence  she  regretted;  but 
she  did  not  realize  this  intention.  My  Father  went,  how- 
ever, and  brought  to  her  as  a  souvenir  of  her  one-time  pos- 
session a  little  enamel  brooch,  now  in  my  keeping,  showing 
a  view  of  Ticonderoga.  My  Mother  always  retained  a  cher- 
ished recollection  of  her  Father,  but  as  she  was  but  17  years 
of  age  when  he  died,  many  details  were  but  faintly  re- 
corded in  her  memory.  She  and  my  Aunt  Malvina  always 
spoke  of  his  superior  mind.    Grandfather  Cullum  is  said  by 


10  THE  BACKGROUND 

those  who  remember  him  to  have  been  a  tall,  spare  man, 
good  looking  and  of  refined  appearance.  His  son  Arthur, 
my  Uncle,  resembled  him  in  feature  and  Mr.  William  Rey- 
nolds says  that  my  Mother  was  perhaps  most  like  him  of 
all  his  children.  Mr.  Reynolds  tells  me  that  his  father,  Mr. 
John  Reynolds,  thought  Mr.  Cullum  a  superior  man  intel- 
lectually and  he  thinks  must  have  had  an  excellent  educa- 
tion. My  Father  also  spoke  of  Grandfather  Cullum 's  ex- 
ceptional conversational  powers.  In  those  early  Meadville 
days,  on  Sunday  afternoons,  several  gentlemen  were  accus- 
tomed to  meet  for  conversation  and  discussion,  the  con- 
versation being  generally  brilliant  and  delightful.  Of  this 
coterie  my  Grandfather  Huidekoper  and  Mr.  John  Rey- 
nolds, Judge  Barlow,  Judge  Wallace  and  Judge  Shippen 
were  members.  They  frequently  met  at  Pomona  Hall  or 
at  Grandfather  Cullum 's.  Though  by  nature  rather  silent 
and  reticent,  Grandfather  Cullum  in  these  meetings  bore 
his  full  part.  That  he  was  a  lover  of  the  poet  Ossian  I 
infer  from  his  naming  two  of  his  children,  Oscar  and  Mal- 
vina,  and  on  these  two  dying  in  infancy  giving  the  name 
to  later  children.  That  he  was  not  unfamiliar  with  Latin 
classics  I  infer  from  a  classical  allusion  in  a  letter  to  his 
son  George  when  at  West  Point.  He  wrote  a  very  bad 
hand,  almost  illiterate,  a  characteristic  or  failing  inherited 
by  some  of  his  children,  and  certainly  also  by  a  grand- 
daughter! Only  a  few  of  his  letters  remain  written  to  his 
son  George,  to  my  Mother  when  she  went  as  a  young  girl 
to  New  York  on  a  visit  to  some  relatives,  and  to  Mr,  Ber- 
rian,  once  his  partner  in  New  York,  and  given  to  me  by 
Mr.  Cornelius  Berrian  Mitchell. 

Grandfather  Cullum  built  the  house  at  the  southwest 
corner  of  Chestnut  and  Liberty  Streets  in  Meadville,  Penna. 
I  think  he  must  have  planted  a  row  of  fine  cherry  trees 
which  once  lined  the  place  on  Chestnut  Street,  and  he 
probably  laid  out  the  garden  which  my  childish  recollec- 
tion pictures  as  full  of  excellent  fruit  and  berries.  A  row 
of  gooseberry  bushes  were  especially  delectable  and  there 


THE  BACKGROUND  11 

was  also  an  ample  kitchen  garden,  and  an  arbour  covered 
with  honeysuckle  perhaps  of  his  time.  He  died  in  1829,  I 
think  of  a  fever  contracted  through  malarial  conditions 
existing  where  he  was  building  an  acqueduct  some  miles 
below  Meadville.  He  was  buried  in  the  old  burying  ground 
somewhere  near  the  present  Randolph  and  Baldwin  Streets, 
but  his  remains  were  years  afterward  removed  to  the  pres- 
ent cemetery,  where  they  lie  in  the  lot  that  was  secured  by 
his  son,  my  Uncle  Arthur  Cullum.  A  short  obituary  notice 
in  the  Crawford  Messenger  for  August  20,  1829,  to  be  seen 
at  the  Public  Library  in  Meadville,  is  as  follows : 

"In  the  death  of  this  gentleman  our  village  society  has 
sustained  a  severe  loss.  As  a  Father  and  Husband  he  was 
affectionate  and  indulgent ;  as  a  citizen,  upright  and  enter- 
prising ;  as  a  friend,  steadfast  and  sincere. ' ' 

I  here  interpolate  a  few  facts  regarding  Arthur  Cullum, 
the  Loyalist,  and  his  descendants,  and  some  unsubstan- 
tiated details  regarding  the  early  Cullums  given  me  by 
connections  in  the  family. 

The  Cullum  family  were  undoubtedly  of  English  de- 
scent. Traditions  in  various  branches  of  the  American 
stock  substantiate  this  claim.  Mrs.  Caroline  Carey,  her- 
self a  Cullum,  the  daughter  of  a  nephew  of  my  Grand- 
father, speaks  of  the  return  of  some  of  the  Cullums  to 
England  after  the  exile,  and  of  their  eventual  re-settlement 
in  the  United  States.  A  vague  tradition  exists  of  a  branch 
having  been  domiciled  in  Maryland  before  the  Revolution. 
Of  "the  family  of  seven  persons"  exiled  to  Nova  Scotia 
with  the  Loyalist  in  1783  only  four  can  I  positively  iden- 
tify. These  were,  Arthur  Cullum,  his  wife,  Rebecca  Meade, 
their  son  Arthur,  their  daughter  Mary,  afterward  Mrs. 
Bailey.  There  was  probably  also  another  son  George,  and 
another  daughter  Savilla  or  Sybilla.  I  recall  that  my 
Grandmother  Cullum  when  I  was  a  child  told  me  of  a  sister 
of  her  husband  named  thus  and  the  name  as  an  unusual 
one  remained  in  my  memory.    The  above  named  George  is 


12  THE  BACKGROUND 

supposed  to  have  married  in  London,  Ann  Shaw,  and  to 
have  had  many  children  of  Avhom  one  son,  John,  was  the 
father  of  Mrs.  Caroline  Carey,  and  a  son,  Charles,  of  Mo- 
bile, Louisiana,  who  left  descendants  there  of  the  name  of 
Redwood.  Mrs.  Bailey,  my  Grandfather's  sister,  lived  in 
New  York,  she  was  a  widow,  with  at  least  two  children. 
She  was  always  most  affectionately  spoken  of  by  my  Mother 
and  my  Aunt  Malvina  as  a  woman  of  great  refinement 
and  cultivation,  reduced  through  widowhood  and  small  re- 
sources to  a  partial  dependance  on  my  Grandfather.  She 
eked  out  a  livelihood  by  doing  most  exquisite  needlework 
of  which  a  few  specimens  are  in  my  possession,  notably  a 
fine  muslin  handkerchief  with  the  initials  of  my  Grand- 
father, "A.  C."  in  very  delicate  stitching.  Her  daughter 
married  a  man  of  foreign  name,  Pothier,  and  was  the 
mother  of  my  friend  and  "cousin"  Mrs.  H.  H.  Howell,  of 
New  York. 

In  an  old  letter  from  some  member  of  the  family  on  the 
death  of  Judge  Stephen  Barlow,  reference  is  made  to  Judge 
Barlow's  will,  or  verbal  instructions,  in  which  is  included 
a  desire  that  a  certain  sum  should  be  expended  on  a  stone 
or  monument  to  his  Brother-in-law,  Arthur  Cullum.  As 
far  as  I  know  this  was  never  carried  out,  as  I  recall  no 
headstone  in  the  old  burying  ground  marking  the  grave. 

The  wife  of  the  Loyalist  Arthur  Cullum  was  Rebecca 
Meade.  The  name  Rebecca  appears  in  the  Shelburne,  Nova 
Scotia,  parish  record  of  the  burial  of  her  infant  son.  The 
name  Meade  was  given  me  as  her  maiden  name  by  Mrs. 
Howell,  who  possesses  the  original  silhouette  of  her.  This 
shows  a  delicate,  refined  face,  in  which  I  trace  a  strong 
resemblance  to  my  Mother  and  my  elder  sister.  My  Grand- 
mother Cullum  spoke  of  her  as  a  woman  of  great  strength 
of  character  and  superior  intellectual  powers. 


My  dear  Grandmother  Cullum  was  born  Harriet  Stur- 
ges,  of  Fairfield,  Connecticut.  She  saw  the  light  there  on 
May  28,  1781.    Her  Father  was  Judson  Sturges,  born  Feb- 


THE  BACKGROUND  13 

ruary  21,  1748 ;  died  December  12,  1782.  Her  Mother  was 
Abigail  Squire,  born  February  22,  1753.  The  Father  of 
Judson  Sturges  was  Solomon  Sturges,  born  1698  and  died 
July  9,  1779,  killed  by  the  British  guns.  The  Squires  seem 
to  have  been  soldiers  in  three  generations.  In  1651,  in 
1691  and  in  1773  they  bore  military  titles. 

Of  my  Grandmother's  personality  I  can  write  from 
vivid  memory.  She  was  small  of  stature  and  delicately 
built,  slender,  and  with  rather  sharp  but  regular  features. 
She  was  quiet  and  retiring  in  disposition.  I  recall  her  as 
gentle  in  temper,  patient,  practical,  full  of  lore  regarding 
life  in  Fairfield  and  family  traditions;  ever  ready  to  tell 
me  stories  when  I  was  a  child,  very  indulgent  to  her  grand- 
children. She  and  my  Aunt  Malvina  fill  a  large  part  in 
the  recollections  of  my  childhood.  My  Grandmother's 
stories  of  her  forbears  and  early  life  come  back  to  me 
vividly.  I  recall  her  account  of  her  Father's  death.  He 
had  gone  out  with  others  to  reconnoitre  the  British  ships 
in  Fairfield  Bay,  when  a  chance  shot  from  one  of  them 
crushed  his  skull.  Her  Mother,  when  the  British  were 
approaching  Fairfield  took  her  children  and  escaped  to  the 
woods,  leaving  the  house  in  the  care  of  an  old  slave  woman 
who  put  all  the  family  silver  and  damask  down  the  well, 
and  by  giving  the  British  plenty  of  cider,  to  keep  them  in 
a  good  humour,  saved  the  house  from  being  burned  as 
much  of  the  village  was.  I  have  a  tiny  napkin,  given  me 
by  my  Mother,  which  was  woven  by  slaves  in  the  Fairfield 
house,  and  a  little  silver  spoon  marked  "A.  S.,"  (either 
Abigail  Sturges  or  Abigail  Squire),  which  may  well  have 
been  among  the  articles  consigned  to  the  well  and  later  re- 
covered when  danger  was  passed.  One  of  the  tales  told 
me  by  my  Grandmother  was  of  the  Fairfield  village  idiot, 
who  one  bitter  cold  night  climbed  the  belfry  of  the  church, 
tied  a  rope  to  the  bell  clapper,  and  throwing  the  rope 
down,  carried  it  with  him  up  a  tree,  where,  safely  en- 
sconced, he  rang  out  a  wild  alarm  which  wakened  the 
heaviest  sleepers.     These,  thinking  a  British  attack  immi- 


14  THE  BACKGEOUND 

nent,  sallied  out  only  to  find  that  all  was  peaceful  and 
silent.    No  sooner  were  they  once  more  safely  in  their  beds 
than  the    bell    clanged  forth    again.     After  another  vain 
search  for  lurking  danger,  the  steeple  was  examined  and 
the  idiot  and  his  trick  exposed.    My  Grandmother  also  told 
with  great  effect  of  a  winter  night,  when,  as  she  and  her 
Mother  sat  alone,  strange  sounds  were  heard  in  the  house, 
and  in  much  trepidation  a  search  was  made  for  marauders. 
The  idiot  proved  to  be  again  the  culprit,  making  a  mid- 
night raid  on  the  pies  and  good  things  prepared  for  the 
approaching  Christmas  season.     Had  I  but  made  notes  of 
all  my  Grandmother  told  me  as  I  sat  on  a  stool  at  her  feet, 
they  would  now  be  interesting  and  to  me  most  valuable,  for 
much  has  escaped  my  memory  with  the  passing  years,  or 
has  become  too  vague  to  be  relied  upon.     There  is  no  one 
left  now,  alas !  to  recall  events  of  the  past  any  more  clearly. 
My  Grandparents,  during  their  residence  in  New  York, 
lived  on  Chambers  Street,  just  opposite  the  City  Hall  and 
Park.     I  think  my  Grandfather 's  place  of  business  was 
near  by,  and  that  the  house  had  a  deep  veranda  at  the 
back    where  in  the    summer  they  took    their  meals.     My 
Grandmother  was  devoted  to  her  church,  and  I  recall  her 
regular    attendance.      In    the    winter    she    was    preceded 
by    a    servant    carrying    a    foot    stove    for    her    comfort 
during  the  service.    My  Uncle  Arthur  Cullum  always  came 
on  Sunday  to  escort  his  Mother  to  church.    She  was  dainty 
in   her   dress,   and   often   wore   an   India   scarf,    one   end 
thrown  over  her  arm,  which  displayed  its  rich  cashmere 
border.     She  came  to  live  with  us  some  years  before  my 
Aunt  Malvina's  marriage.     She  was    never  idle,    always 
knitting,  darning  stockings,  and  making  patchwork.    I  was 
very  fond  of  her. 

My  Grandmother's  sister,  Abigail  Sturges,  married 
Stephen  Barlow,  (January  3,  1805),  afterward  Judge 
and  Member  of  the  Legislature.  The  Barlows  were 
an  old  family,  of  Fairfield,  Redding  and  Green  Farms, 
— they  all  lie  together.  Some  of  the  Barlows  were 
Loyalists  and  lived  in  St.  John,  New  Brunswick.    They  are 


THE  BACKGROUND  15 

probably  descended  from  Francis  Barlow,  of  Coventry, 
England,  and  come  into  our  direct  line  of  descent  through 
two  sources ;  John  Sturges  having  married  a  Deborah  Bar- 
low in  1650,  while  a  Ruth  Barlow,  sister  of  Deborah,  mar- 
ried Francis  Bradley  and  became  the  Grandmother  of 
Abigail  Bradley,  the  wife  of  Solomon  Sturges. 

Mrs.  Barlow  was  a  distinguished  looking  woman,  of  deli- 
cate, highbred  features,  and  some  beauty,  as  shown  by  her 
portrait.  Miss  Lydia  Davis  tells  me  she  was  beautiful,  and 
had  exquisite  hands  of  which  she  took  the  greatest  care. 
Her  letters,  of  which  we  have  many,  reveal  a  charming 
personality,  great  refinement,  good  sense  and  culture.  She 
had  finished  manners  and  a  delicate  taste.  She  was  more 
a  woman  of  the  world  than  her  sister,  Harriet  Cullum,  and 
shone  in  the  society  of  the  Capital  when  Judge  Barlow  went 
to  Washington  as  a  member  of  Congress.  If  my  memory 
serves  me  she  was  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Madison. 
There  was  in  my  childhood,  a  white  satin  hat  with  pale  blue 
plumes  still  in  existence,  which  had  been  sent  from  Paris 
for  Mrs.  Barlow  when  she  and  Mrs.  Madison  sent  there  for 
their  toilettes  and  finery.  A  packet  of  visiting  cards,  among 
Mrs.  Barlow's  effects  now  in  my  possession,  include  the 
names  of  all  the  distinguished  persons  of  the  time,  foreign 
ministers  and  national  celebrities.  Mrs.  Barlow  was  a 
dainty  and  expert  needlewoman  and  I  have  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  her  work;  a  muslin  scarf,  some  collars  and  some 
tiny  clothes  made  for  her  babies.  Her  children  all  died 
young.  She  was  a  woman  universally  loved  and  admired. 
She  was  very  fond  of  my  Mother  and  took  great  interest 
in  all  that  concerned  her.  She  died  in  1841,  before  I  was 
born,  but  I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  "Uncle  Barlow", 
and  of  being  taken  to  see  him  in  his  last  illness.  I  could 
have  been  then  but  three  and  a  half  years  old,  for  he  died 
August  24,  1845.  Judge  Stephen  Barlow  was  born  in 
Redding,  Conn.,  in  April,  1779.  I  know  nothing  of  his 
parents,  Joel  Barlow  was  his  uncle.  Joel  Barlow,  "citi- 
zen of  France"  in  1792;  Minister  of  the  United  States  to 


16  THE  BACKGEOUND 

France  during  the  last  years  of  Napoleon's  reign.  He  went 
to  meet  Napoleon  at  Wilna,  Poland  in  order  to  accomplish 
the  signing  of  an  important  commercial  treaty  between 
France  and  the  United  States.  On  the  return  journey  he 
was  taken  ill,  died  and  was  buried  at  Zarno witch,  near  Cra- 
cow, in  December,  1812.  He  was  the  author  of  "The 
Columbiad",  and  "Hasty  Pudding",  both  rather  dull 
poems.  He  was  more  successful  as  an  ambassador  and 
statesman  than  as  a  poet  and  author.  He  owned  a  beauti- 
ful place  near  Washington  called  Kalorama,  where  he 
dispensed  a  graceful  hospitality.  Charles  Burr  Todd  in  his 
"Life  and  Letters  of  Joel  Barlow",  says  of  Kalorama: 
"This  charming  retreat  became  the  Holland  House  of 
America. ' '  A  brother  of  Stephen  Barlow,  hence  a  nephew 
of  Joel  Barlow,  acted  as  his  uncle's  secretary  during  his 
embassy  to  France.  He  married  a  French  lady.  Miss 
Preble,  (more  probably  an  American  living  in  France),  at 
Versailles.  Later  he  lived  at  Pittsburgh  and  at  Washing- 
ton, Pennsylvania,  where  a  daughter,  Mrs.  Anica  Barlow 
Chambers,  and  her  descendants  still  reside.  Judge  Stephen 
Barlow  was  a  man  of  distinction,  ability  and  high  probity. 
Besides  several  terms  in  the  State  Legislature,  he  served  as 
member  of  Congress.  He  lived  the  latter  years  of  his  life 
in  the  house  now  occupied  by  Mr.  A.  Richmond  on  Chest- 
nut Street,  Meadville,  just  east  of  the  Richmond  Block.  He 
was  very  kind  to  my  Grandmother  Cullum  and  all  her 
children.  At  his  death  he  left  one  hundred  dollars  to  be 
used  to  erect  a  headstone  on  the  grave  of  my  Grandfather 
Cullum,  but  so  far  as  I  know  this  was  never  done.  He 
travelled  a  good  deal  to  New  York,  Philadelphia  and  Wash- 
ington, and  had  many  friends  among  the  distinguished  peo- 
ple of  the  Capital. 

A  noteworthy  figure  in  the  Meadville  circle  of  my  child- 
hood was  my  aunt,  Mrs.  David  Dick,  born  Miss  Lydia  Col- 
hoon.  "Aunt  Dick"  as  we  called  her,  was  a  sister  of  my 
Grandmother  Huidekoper.  She  was  born  at  Carlisle,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  after  the  death  of  both  parents  lived  with  an 


THE  BACKGROUND  17 

Aunt,  whose  name  I  do  not  recall.  After  the  marriage  of 
her  sister  to  my  Grandfather,  Herman  John  Huidekoper, 
she  came  to  make  her  home  at  Pomona  Hall.  She  was  con- 
sidered a  beauty  in  her  youth,  and  preserved  into  old  age 
her  fine  figure,  elegant  deportment,  vivacity  and  animation. 
She  early  became  deaf,  and  even  when  I  was  a  child  used 
a  trumpet.  I  believe  that  my  Grandfather 's  brother,  Pierre 
Ketel  Huidekoper,  was  attached  to  her,  but  his  suit  did  not 
meet  with  success.  After  the  death  of  her  husband,  Mr. 
David  Dick,  who  long  pre-deceased  her.  Aunt  Lydia  lived 
with  my  Aunt,  Miss  Elizabeth  Huidekoper.  As  previously 
noted  she  was  a  woman  of  great  vivacity  and  talkativeness, 
liking  company,  and  she  was  very  entertaining  when  once 
started  on  congenial  topics,  such  as  reminiscences  of  her 
youth,  family  lore  and  relationships.  She  told  me  that  in 
her  girlhood  she  visited  Niagara  Falls,  riding  thither  on 
horseback  by  an  Indian  trail  through  the  forest,  and  she 
described  how  the  roar  of  the  cataract  reached  them  long 
before  it  burst  on  their  view  as  they  emerged  from  the 
forest  directly  upon  the  Falls.  Absorbed  in  her  reminis- 
cences, she  would  often  quite  forget  the  age  of  her  listener 
and  a  colloquy  such  as  the  following  would  ensue :  ' '  My 
dear,  do  you  remember  Mrs.  Parson  Alden's  best  Sunday 
cap  with  the  plumes?"  "No,  Aunt,  I  can't  for  she  died 
before  I  was  born ! "  ' '  Oh  yes,  so  she  did  my  dear, ' '  then 
after  a  pause:  "But  you  remember  it  was  made,  etc.,  etc." 
She  was  very  fond  of  the  game  of  backgammon,  and  in 
her  latter  years  Miss  Huidekoper  or  her  companion.  Miss 
Barber,  would  play  twenty  or  thirty  games  a  day  with  her. 
At  one  time  when  she  was  not  well,  she  wakened  Miss  Bar- 
ber in  the  night  and  told  her  she  felt  very  ill  and  thought 
she  was  going  to  die.  She  wished  to  give  some  last  direc- 
tions, which  Miss  Jane  dutifully  received.  Certain  mes- 
sages of  forgiveness  were  to  be  sent  to  a  relation  by  mar- 
riage with  whom  there  had  been  a  feud  over  the  inheritance 
of  some  knives  and  forks.  At  first  the  directions  were  that 
they  were  to  be  forgiven  but  not  invited  to  the  funeral; 


18  THE  BACKGEOUND 

later  reflection  inclined  her  to  give  permission  that  this 
should  also  be  done,  other  behests  followed  and  then  Miss 
Barber  induced  her  to  rest  a  little  and  try  to  sleep.  After 
long  silence  and  possibly  a  nap,  Mrs.  Dick  said,  '  *  Jane,  are 
you  awake"?  "Yes,  Mrs.  Dick";  ''Do  you  feel  sleepy, 
Jane"?  ''Not  at  all  Mrs.  Dick,  what  can  I  do  for  you"? 
"Well  Jane,  I  feel  a  little  better,  and  if  you  are  really  not 
sleepy,  we  might  have  a  game  of  backgammon."  Where- 
upon, sitting  up  in  bed  she  played  twenty  games  before 
morning.  Her  hearing  was  worse  at  times  than  others,  and 
occasionally  one  could  not  make  her  understand  even 
through  her  trumpet.  She  was  touchy  about  being  cor- 
rected and  I  recall  an  occasion  when  I  was  trying  to  tell 
her  that  an  Aunt,  Mrs.  Horace  Cullum,  was  going  to  the 
Centennial  Exhibition  in  Philadelphia.  "Has  she  erysipe- 
las ?  I  am  so  sorry,  my  dear  tell  her  from  me  to  take  camo- 
mile ( ?)  tea,  it  is  the  only  cure".  "But  Aunt,  she  has  no 
erysipelas,  she  is  leaving  today  for  the  Centennial  in  Phila- 
delphia". "Yes,  yes  my  dear  I  understand  perfectly,  but 
tell  her  from  me  that  camomile  is  the  best  cure".  I  could 
not  make  her  understand  and  feared  she  would  spread  the 
news  to  all  the  neighbourhood  that  Mrs.  Horace  Cullum  was 
ill  with  erysipelas.  Indeed  on  Miss  Huidekoper  coming 
into  the  room  just  then,  she  at  once  called  out:  "Lizzie 
my  dear,  Mrs.  Horace  Cullum  has  erysipelas  and  I  am  just 
telling  Emma  what  she  ought  to  take".  I  was  very  fond 
of  drawing  out  Aunt  Dick  about  family  connections  and 
only  wish  I  had  made  notes  of  her  interesting  narratives. 

At  intervals  there  came  as  visitors  to  Pomona  Hall  or 
to  Aunt  Dick 's,  Cousins  of  hers  and  of  Grandmother  Huide- 
koper, Mrs.  Woods  and  Mrs.  McKee,  two  Sisters.  Their 
visits  were  always  looked  forward  to  with  keen  delight, 
and  were  greatly  enjoyed,  for  both  were  extremely  vivacious 
and,  charming  women.  Mrs.  McKee  I  scarcely  recall,  but 
I  am  told  she  was  remarkably  fine  looking  with  fresh  col- 
ouring and  of  most  agreeable  personality.  Cousin  Mary 
Woods  was  very  tall,  of  stately  figure  and  port,  with  oval 


THE  BACKGEOUND  19 

face,  bright  eyes  and  abundant  hair,  over  which  she  wore 
fine  lace  lappets.  Dressed  in  rich  moire  antique,  and  deli- 
cate laces,  and  sitting  very  straight  in  her  chair,  she  would 
charm  and  entertain  young  and  old  with  her  animated 
conversation.  Her  visits  to  Aunt  Dick  I  recall  with  great 
interest  and  in  my  childhood  she  made  a  vivid  impression 
upon  me.  She  once  said  something — I  dare  say  vaguely — 
about  sending  my  Brother  and  me  some  Muscovy  ducks  from 
Wheeling,  Virginia,  where  she  lived.  I  remember  that  we 
talked  and  dreamed  of  those  ducks  for  months  but  the  dear 
lady  forgot  them  and  they  never  came.  A  son  of  Mrs. 
Wood  was  adopted  by  her  Sister  and  was  known  as  Harry 
McKee.  He  once  spent  a  day  in  Meadville  and  I  recall  him 
as  a  fine  looking,  elegantly  dressed  man  of  pleasing  man- 
ner. He  lived  in  New  Orleans  after  the  war,  and  I  have 
heard  that  he  had  there  a  fine  southern  house.  Mrs.  Wood's 
eldest  son  was  a  Presbyterian  clergyman  and  head  master 
of  a  school  at  Charlottesville,  Virginia,  where  his  children 
still  live.  Her  daughter,  Ann  Eliza,  married  Mr.  James 
Polhemus,  of  Astoria,  but  soon  died  and  he  re-married. 
Aunt  Hazlett  was  my  Father's  Aunt  and  Sister  of  my 
Grandmother  Huidekoper  and  Aunt  Dick.  I  recall  her 
as  a  very  quiet,  simple  lady.  She  was  the  mother  of  our 
Cousin  Margaret  Bagley.  Her  husband  was  born  in  Ire- 
land and  was  of  a  good  family  from  Ramelton,  County 
Donegal.  I  believe  the  poet  Hazlitt  was  of  the  same  stock. 
A  bundle  of  letters  now  in  the  Land  Office  show  that  the 
Irish  family  was  warmly  interested  in  the  family  here  and 
was  anxious  to  maintain  communication,  but  the  Bagleys, 
I  think,  dropped  all  correspondence  with  Ireland. 

A  prominent  and  greatly  beloved  member  of  the  social 
circle  in  Meadville  was  Mrs.  Shippen,  variously  denomi- 
nated as  Madam  Shippen,  Grandma  Shippen,  etc.  She  was 
truly  "Grandma"  to  the  Theological  students  whom  she 
took  ''en  masse"  under  her  motherly  wing,  and  coddled 
when  ill,  stuffed  with  good  things  when  well,  and  coun- 
seled and  cared  for  at  all  times.    A  woman  of  remarkable 


20  THE  BACKGROUND 

force  of  character  and  originality  of  mind;  eminently 
practical  and  judicious,  of  great  energy  and  courage;  she 
faced  life  with  undaunted  and  steadfast  purpose  under  all 
trials  and  troubles.  She  was  a  Virginian  by  birth,  and 
married  Judge  Henry  Shippen  who  came  from  Lancaster, 
Penna.,  to  Meadville  to  preside  over  the  court.  She  was 
early  left  a  widow  with  a  large  family  of  children,  and  but 
scanty  means.  Mr.  Reynolds  says  he  remembers  that  Judge 
Barlow  told  him  it  was  the  hardest  duty  of  his  life  to  tell 
Mrs.  Shippen,  as  executor  of  her  husband's  will,  that  her 
income  from  $3,000  a  year,  the  Judge's  salary,  would  be  cut 
down  to  $300, — all  that  could  be  depended  upon.  How 
bravely  she  faced  the  situation  no  words  could  adequately 
tell.  Her  children  know!  She  succeeded,  Heaven  only 
knows  how,  in  educating  all  her  family  admirably.  Her 
sons  went  to  college  and  helped  her  as  they  grew  up.  Mr. 
Rush  Shippen  taught  school  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  Each 
child  had  every  possible  advantage  of  education,  society 
and  diversion  that  she  could  compass.  Her  wise  and  her 
witty  sayings  are  treasured  in  the  memory  of  her  friends. 
I  have  never  met  anyone  whose  personality  was  more  im- 
pressive than  was  her's — she  was  like  pure,  wholesome,  ex- 
hilarating air — one  could  not  get  too  much  of  her.  Her 
house  was  open  to  all,  and  her  hospitality  was  abounding, 
if  simple.  There  was  no  place  we  more  loved  to  run  in  to 
of  an  evening.  Her  parlour  was  always  open,  warm  and 
cheery,  and  well  filled.  The  plates  of  rosy  apples  stood 
on  the  table,  and  if  several  people  came  in,  or  it  was  cold, 
or  with  no  excuse  at  all,  the  great  platter  of  doughnuts  was 
brought,  or  a  spicy  pumpkin  pie  was  cut  in  generous 
slices  and  urged  upon  our  willing  palates.  I  have  never 
known  anywhere  such  an  abounding  welcome  and  cheer  as 
her's.  Was  a  theolog  ailing  or  ill,  she  took  him  in  and 
nursed  him  back  to  health;  was  a  new  man  homesick,  she 
made  him  welcome  in  her  house;  was  anyone  in  trouble 
Mrs.  Shippen  was  to  the  fore  with  help  and  counsel  and 
comforting.     Would  she  not  herself  patch  and  mend  and 


THE  BACKGROUND  21 

remake  her  sons'  or  others'  old  clothes  for  some  poor  stu- 
dent. She  was  ' '  Grandma ' '  to  them  all !  She  was  an  ardent 
Unitarian,  and  one  of  the  greatest  props  of  the  Church  in 
Meadville.  Liberal  minded,  she  was  liberal  in  her  judg- 
ment of  other  and  narrower  minds,  and  exercised  I  am  sure 
a  powerful  influence  on  such.  An  old  friend  of  her 's  called 
Lawyer  Howe  was  a  staunch  Presbyterian,  but  they  fre- 
quently held  converse  on  theological  matters,  and  Mrs. 
Shippen  lent  her  friend  a  copy  of  her  Hymn  Book.  On 
his  returning  it  she  asked  if  he  had  not  liked  the  collection 
of  hymns.  He  replied  that  he  had  but  that  he  had  missed 
one  great  favorite  of  his — "Rock  of  Ages  Cleft  for  Me,  Let 
Me  Hide  Myself  in  Thee".  Whereupon  Mrs.  Shippen,  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  his  arm  burst  forth :  ' '  Why,  Friend  Howe, 
you're  not  a  coward,  surely  you  don't  want  to  hide  your- 
self from  the  Lord!  Now  my  favorite  hymn  is,  'Approach 
not  the  altar  with  gloom  in  thy  soul '  " !  Of  another  Howe 
who  attended  our  church  they  tell  this  tale :  He  took  a  wife 
when  no  longer  young,  and  much  to  the  surprise  of  his 
friends.  There  was  a  mysterious  story  as  to  how  Hank 
Howe  won  his  wife.  One  of  Mrs.  Shippen 's  sons  confided 
this  story  to  her,  enjoining  therewith  the  strictest  secrecy. 
A  few  moments  later  her  Daughter,  Mrs.  Edgar  Huide- 
koper,  came  in,  and  Mrs.  Shippen  looking  up  exclaimed, 
"Oh,  Fanny,  do  come  and  hear  how  Hank  Howe  got  his 
wife".  Her  son  indignantly  burst  out,  "Mother,  how  can 
you,  when  I  told  you  it  was  a  secret".  "And,  my  dear," 
the  old  lady  would  relate,  "I  was  so  frightened  that  the 
story  went  out  of  my  head  like  a  shot,  and  I  never  could 
recall  it  afterwards ' ' ! 

When  her  youngest  Son,  Joseph,  left  home  for  Harvard 
College,  it  left  her  desolate,  though  her  dearest  desire  was 
that  he  should  have  this  privilege.  He  was  her  Benjamin 
however,  her  baby,  and  she  felt  as  though  with  his  going 
forth  into  the  world,  that  her  life's  work  was  ended.  As 
she  related  it,  "I  had  worked  and  saved  and  given  all  my 
Sons  a  good  education  and  they  were  all  out  in  the  world 


22  THE  BACKGROUND 

and  doing  finely,  and  with  Joe 's  leaving  the  nest  I  felt  my 
work  was  done.  He  needed  me  no  more,  and  what  was  there 
for  me  to  live  for?  So,  I  thought  the  Lord  would  see  it 
and  take  me  to  Himself,  and  I  was  quite  ready  to  go.  I 
put  the  house  in  order,  took  a  bath  and  went  to  bed,  first 
writing  a  note  to  Mr.  Mumford  to  explain  matters,  Fanny 
I  knew  would  understand  at  once  that  my  work  was  over. 
I  got  into  bed  and  composed  myself  and  said,  now  Lord 
let  thy  servant  depart  for  her  work  is  done,  when — while 
I  waited  for  the  Lord  to  take  me — I  suddenly  remembered 
that  I  had  asked  Mrs.  Barber  to  dine  with  me  next  day 
and  go  to  the  circus,  so  I  wasn't  ready,  my  dear,  and  to 
tell  the  truth  I  thought  better  of  it " !  Her  wholesome  laugh 
as  she  told  this  story  against  herself  was  good  to  hear  and 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

I  recall  her  diverting  my  Mother  at  a  tea  party  one  even- 
ing at  Miss  Shippen's — ''Auntie  Shippen's" — where  the 
fare  was  always  of  the  most  extraordinary  and  indescrib- 
able character  and  generally  uneatable.  My  Mother,  who 
was  dyspeptic,  was  wondering  what  to  do,  when  she  noted 
the  remarkable  way  in  which  her  neighbour.  Grandma  Ship- 
pen 's  food  disappeared  from  her  plate.  Watching  she 
found  that  from  time  to  time  when  Auntie 's  eyes  were  shut 
the  plate  was  calmly  emptied  into  a  serviceable  towel  in 
the  lap.  A  word  of  question  followed,  a  solemn  wink  from 
Mrs.  Shippen  and  the  whispered  advice,  ' '  do  thou  likewise ' ' 
was  the  reply  which  convulsed  my  Mother.  After  the  re- 
past was  over  Mrs.  Shippen  gathered  up  the  towel  and  hid- 
ing it  under  the  folds  of  her  dress  took  my  Mother's  arm 
and  proposed  they  should  go  into  the  garden  and  see  the 
flowers.  Arrived  there  the  lapful  of  strange  meats  was 
safely  delivered  to  the  retiring  hens!  It  is  not  often  that 
one  meets  in  a  small  family  circle  two  such  forceful  souls 
as  Madam  Shippen  and  Miss  Margaret  Shippen,  "Auntie 
Shippen",  to  us  children.  She  was  a  sister  of  Judge  Henry 
Shippen,  and  came  to  Meadville  to  live.  She  purchased  a 
brick  house  behind  our  church,  where  the  parsonage  now 


tHE  BACKGROUND  23 

stands,  the  property  having  been  given  by  her  to  the  church 
at  or  before  her  death.  The  handsome  sofa  in  the  present 
parish  house  parlour  was  among  the  many  pieces  of  fine 
old  mahogany  that  filled  her  house.  Of  her  character  I  do 
not  feel  competent  to  write,  but  I  believe  that  she  had  a 
remarkable  intelligence,  a  strong  mind  and  excellent  judg- 
ment. I  remember  being  asked  to  call  upon  some  young 
people  from  Philadelphia  who  were,  I  presume,  visiting 
her,  and  I  recall  that  we  played  ''hunt  the  slipper"  in  an 
upper  chamber.  I  think  I  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  the  good 
lady  in  my  childhood,  as  a  less  familiar  personality  than 
Grandma  Shippen.  She  had  many  eccentricities  which 
struck  a  child's  mind.  She  had  a  habit  of  closing  her  eyes 
when  talking  and  keeping  them  closed  a  long  time.  My 
Cousins,  Henry  and  Frederic  Huidekoper,  used  to  say  that 
at  their  Grandmother's  when  Miss  Shippen  was  there,  they 
could  ask  old  Auntie  a  question,  and  launch  her  on  the  re- 
ply, then  slip  into  the  kitchen  for  cookies  and  after  dis- 
cussing them  return  to  find  Auntie  still  talking  quite  un- 
conscious of  their  absence.  She  had  a  fashion  of  wearing 
one  dress  skirt  over  the  other  till  several  different  garments 
were  visible  about  her  feet,  and  several  capes  of  diverse 
colours  and  materials  would  adorn  her  shoulders.  She  was 
given  to  imagining  herself  attacked  by  any  epidemic  that 
was  going  about,  and  I  remember  going  to  see  her  in  the 
front  corner  chamber  at  Madam  Shippen 's  where  she  was 
stirring  some  odorous  mixture  on  the  stove  which  she  an- 
nounced was  soda,  etc.,  to  be  taken  for  scarlet  fever  which 
she  thought  she  would  doubtless  have  as  it  was  "in  the 
neighbourhood".  She  removed  to  Philadelphia  late  in  life 
and  there  died.  I  recall  going  twice  to  see  her  in  her  little 
house  at  West  Philadelphia,  once  with  my  Father  when 
she  appeared  looking  like  an  animated  clothes-horse,  and 
I  think  threw  her  arms  around  and  kissed  my  Father ;  and 
once  with  my  Sister,  Mrs.  Bond,  when  we  found  her  little 
parlour  so  littered  on  every  sofa  and  chair  with  clothes, 
books  and  dishes  and  withal  so  cold,  that  we  were  incon- 


24  THE  BACKGEOUND 

tinently  invited  to  come  to  the  kitchen  which  was  warn,  and 
with  our  feet  on  the  stove  sat  and  chatted  delightfully  for 
an  hour,  being;  hospitably  pressed  to  eat  some  apples  which 
had  a  preliminary  rub  with  a  grimy  tea  towel.  She  wanted 
to  give  my  Sister  some  preserved  peaches  which  she  prom- 
ised to  send  her,  and  a  few  days  later  an  express  man  called 
and  asked  for  a  tray  on  which  to  bring  in  a  ginger  jar 
which  had  broken  on  the  way  and  was  dripping  with  juice 
on  every  side!  The  peaches,  or  such  of  them  as  were 
rescued  were  very  delicious,  of  the  good  old  fashioned  pre- 
served type — ' '  a  pound  to  a  pound  ".  If  I  have  dwelt  more 
on  Auntie's  eccentricities  than  on  her  many  virtues  it  is 
because  a  child's  mind  is  more  retentive  of  the  amusing 
than  the  serious.  If  the  food  at  her  table  was  incongruous 
and  nondescript,  and  her  guests  were  chary  of  eating  the 
extraordinary  mixtures  set  before  them,  the  welcome  to  her 
board  was  of  the  warmest,  and  the  conversation  thereat  was 
of  the  best  and  highest  class. 

Another  type,  of  quite  a  different  order,  was  my  good 
Aunt,  Mrs.  Horace  Cullum,  who  was  assuredly  the  most 
warm  hearted  and  kindly  soul  imaginable  but  who  lacked 
balance  and  poise.  Full  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness, 
generous,  capable  and  ever  busy,  she  was  one  of  the  great- 
est talkers  I  ever  met,  her  conversation  reminding  one  of 
Mrs.  Nickleby's,  covering  an  immense  number  of  subjects, 
run  into  each  other  in  the  most  extraordinary  way. 


Here  I  laid  down  my  pencil,  thinking  these,  my  few 
reminiscences  worth  preserving  Avere  ended.  But  my  dear 
child  says:  "They  are  only  begun",  and  that  she  wishes 
me  to  write  of  myself,  letting  what  I  have  written  form  a 
background  to  my  own  personal  recollections.  The  "back- 
ground" seems  to  me  far  more  worthy  of  being  the  "fore- 
ground", but  as  her  wish  has  ever  been  my  law,  I  must 
yield,  and  will  continue  by  writing  of  myself,  though  it 
must  be  a  tale  largely  of  commonplace  events  and  an  un- 
eventful life. 


THE  FOREGROUND 

I  was  born  on  January  31st,  1842,  the  year  of  the  great 
comet.  Whether  this  orb,  being  in  supremacy  at  my  birth 
has  affected  my  destiny,  only  my  horoscope,  had  it  been 
cast,  could  have  determined.  But  certainly,  like  the  comet, 
I  have  moved  hither  and  thither  in  an  irregular  orbit  for 
many  years  of  my  life.  There  has  been  a  certain  method  in 
my  wanderings,  and  I  have  oscillated  between  my  native 
land  and  western  Europe  pretty  regularly  since  1865-6  to 
this  day,  January  6,  1901.  Whether  in  this  new  century  I 
shall  tend  to  become  a  fixed  star,  the  gods  alone  know ! 


MY  FIRST  RECOLLECTION 

My  first  recollection  of  anything,  is  of  going  slowly 
down  the  steps  of  the  back  porch,  my  hand  on  the  rail,  and 
wondering  who  made  God !  From  the  fact  that  I  went  down 
one  step  at  a  time  and  reached  up  to  touch  the  rail,  I  fancy 
I  may  have  been  about  four  years  old,  possibly  less.  My 
next  recollection  which  must  have  been  when  I  was  really 
four,  is  of  going  with  my  Mother  to  Judge  Barlow's  and 
clinging  to  her  hand  as  I  was  taken  into  the  half  darkened 
room  where  he  lay  dying,  or  very  near  his  death.  I  think 
it  was  the  ground  floor  room  to  the  left  of  the  front  door, 
but  this  is  uncertain.  I  have  a  very  vague  idea  of  his  ap- 
pearance and  I  recall  my  Mother  looking  very  grave  or 
crying.  My  next  and  most  vivid  recollections  are  of  my 
Grandmother  CuUum  's  house  which,  being  nearer  our  home 
than  Pomona  Hall  was  probably  more  familiar  ground  to 
my  childish  footsteps.  I  recall  the  red  brick  house  with 
parapets  like  our  own  house,  the  tall  cherry  trees  in  a  row 
down  the  front  garden  which  I  presume  my  Grandfather 
must  have  planted.  The  shilling  roses  near  the  gate,  the 
tulip  beds  in  spring,  the  gooseberry  bushes  in  rows  heavy 
with  fruit ;  the  red  currants  and  the  asparagus  beds  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  garden.  A  summer  house  covered  with 
coral  honeysuckle  stood  somewhat  back,  and  here  was  my 
favourite  play  house.  The  wood  house  stood  along  Liberty 
Street,  its  roof  sloping  toward  the  highway,  and  covered 
with  a  huge  grape  vine  forming  a  bower  on  the  roof  where 
I  loved  to  sit  and  often  to  hide.  My  Grandmother's  house 
was  roomy  and  cheerful  and  always  hospitably  open  to  all. 
The  two  large  drawing  rooms  on  the  left  of  the  entrance 
hall  opened  together  with  folding  doors.  In  the  back  par- 
lour, between  the  south  windows,  stood  the  sideboard  from 
which  a  delicate,  subtle  spicy  fragrance  came  which  I  as- 


THE  FOEEGROUND  27 

sociate  with  the  cookies  and  cakes  ever  present  therein. 
On  the  right  of  the  hall  was  the  sitting  room  with  its  cheer- 
ful fire,  its  west  window  and  large  china  closet,  taken  out 
of  the  kitchen  into  which  the  sitting  room  opened  directly. 
From  this  kitchen,  with  its  oven  and  fireplace  a  back  stairs 
went  up  to  a  cheerful  drum-room,  as  it  was  called,  where 
a  drum  from  the  kitchen  flue  made  a  pleasant  warmth.  In 
this  room  was  a  large  closet  with  a  window  in  it  looking 
west,  which  was  one  of  my  favorite  play-rooms.  Here  on 
Thanksgiving  Days,  we  had  fine  romps.  My  Aunt,  Miss 
Elizabeth  Huidekoper,  recalls  rushing  up  those  back  stairs 
with  my  Aunt,  Mrs.  Hassall,  and  Ann  Eliza  Anderson, 
when  they  were  all  girls  together,  like  young  Indians  and 
uttering  a  species  of  war  hoop,  to  which  my  Grandmother 
placidly  submitted.  A  younger  generation  must  often  have 
tried  the  dear  old  lady's  nerves,  but  never  did  she  show 
anything  but  love  and  sweetness  to  us  little  savages. 

Note — These  reminiscences  were  never  continued. 


1860 
Age  18 


LETTERS  1860-1863 

Home,  June  11th,  1860. 
Dear  Aunt  Lizzie : 

It  is  hot  in  the  extreme,  and  I  am  almost  dissolved,  but 
before  disappearing  finally,  I  have  managed  to  collect 
enough  energy  to  write  you  a  note  to  prove  in  the  words  of 
the  poet  (name  unknown),  that  although, 

''My  pen  is  poor,  my  ink  is  pale 
My  love  for  you  will  never  fail". 

Just  add  to  the  first  line  that  it  is  also  extremely  warm! 

Rebecca  told  me  that  she  had  a  letter  from  you  the  other 
day,  and  that  if  I  directed  a  letter  to  Columbus  it  would 
probably  reach  you.  Last  night  the  Bible  Class  met  for 
the  last  time.  The  week  before  there  were  only  nine  per- 
sons in  attendance.  Last  night  there  were  eleven,  counting 
Uncle  Fred,  who  after  the  meeting  put  it  to  vote  whether 
the  meetings  should  be  continued  or  not  for  a  week  or  two 
longer.  The  nays  had  the  majority,  so  next  week  there 
will  be  no  meeting.  I  am  almost  sorry,  for  although  it  is 
getting  rather  warm,  I  am  really  interested  now  in  the  les- 
sons. The  house  looks  rather  forlorn  without  you,  I  go  up 
now  and  then  to  look  at  the  house  and  the  flowers.  Tell 
Auntie  Moore  the  scrubby  plants  look  as  scrubby  as  ever 
and  a  little  more  scrubby  if  possible  than  when  she  went 
away.  Mr.  Chaney's  friend,  Mr.  Hooper,  has  been  making 
him  a  short  visit.  He  came  on  Saturday  night  and  went 
yesterday  morning.  We  had  a  letter  from  Sister  Rebecca 
last  night,  she  is  quite  well.  Aunt  Lizzie,  if  it  is  not  too 
much  trouble,  will  you  get  me  some  embroidered  bands,  or 
rather  two  yards  of  it.  It  is  for  the  bottom  of  a  baby's 
skirt.    I  want  it  about  as  wide  as  the  strip  of  paper  I  en- 


LETTERS  29 

I860 
Age  18 

close  is  long.  I  want  it  handsome — of  jaconnet.  If  you 
will  pay  for  it  I  will  repay  you  on  your  return.  About  the 
price  I  do  not  care  particularly,  so  that  it  is  handsome.  I 
suppose  it  will  be  somewhere  about  a  dollar  a  yard.  I  went 
to  see  Aunt  Dick  the  other  day.  She  seemed  well.  Ger- 
trude is  waiting  for  me  to  go  down  street  with  her.  I  ex- 
pect to  come  back  in  a  liquid  state,  but  she  is  such  a  tease 
there  is  no  use  in  refusing  her.  Give  much  love  to  Auntie 
Moore,  I  hope  she  has  the  blue  ribbon  off  her  neck. 

Your  loving  niece, 

Emma. 

Meadville,  August  12,  1860. 
Dear  Aunt  Lizzie : 

Every  one  has  gone  to  sleep,  leaving  me  forlorn  and 
alone,  so  I  shall  occupy  the  half  hour  before  going  to  walk 
in  writing  to  you ;  that  is  if  I  do  not  go  to  sleep.  Mr.  Fol- 
som's  sermons  always  have  a  very  soothing  effect  on  me. 
We  had  a  long  sermon  from  Mr.  Folsom  this  morning  de- 
livered in  his  inimitable  style,  about  as  interesting  as  they 
always  are.  It  was  very  warm  and  I  could  not  keep  awake. 
The  Sunday  School  is  in  rather  a  forlorn  condition.  Laur- 
ens Beach  opens  and  shuts  the  school,  and  Mary  Smith, 
Miss  Minnis  and  Gertrude  do  the  singing.  There  is  rather 
a  scarcity  of  teachers ;  Ed  Huidekoper  had  to  teach  a  class 
this  morning.  It  will  be  a  great  relief  to  get  Mr.  Brown 
and  Mr.  Chaffin  back  to  help  in  the  singing,  we  consider 
ourselves  fortunate  when  we  do  not  break  down  every  other 
verse.  A  letter  from  Mother  last  night  told  us  of  Uncle 
Edgar's  leaving  for  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  Uncle  Fred  and 
Aunt  Hattie  leave  Tuesday  for  somewhere.  They  have  not 
decided  whether  to  go  to  Bedford,  Niagara  or  east.  It 
must  be  pleasant  at  the  seashore  if  it  is  as  warm  there  as 
it  has  been  here.  Yesterday  was  cool  but  today  it  is  hot. 
I  was  very  glad  to  hear  of  the  Misses  To\vne  through  your 
letter  to  Father.  I  should  like  to  see  them  very  much.  They 
are  extremely  agreeable  and  lively.    Shall  you  go  to  North- 


30  LETTERS 

1860 
Age  18 

ampton  on  your  return?  Your  house  looks  deserted  and 
desolate.  The  flowers  only  lend  brightness  to  the  picture. 
The  scarlet  and  purple  verbenas  have  been  very  brilliant 
and  beautiful,  especially  those  in  the  front  yard  on  the 
east  side.  Tell  Lilian  I  have  never  been  down  to  Pomona 
to  read  those  old  manuscripts.  I  really  intended  to  do  so 
before  this.  I  will  try  to  go  down  some  time  soon.  I  do 
not  go  out  at  all,  stay  at  home  and  read,  study  and  keep 
house.  I  went  to  Henry  H.'s  party  on  Friday  but  came 
home  early  not  feeling  very  well.  It  was  very  pleasant, 
however,  about  fifty  were  there.  Our  grapes  and  peaches 
are  nearly  ripe — then  we  shall  feast.  Hasten  home  and 
help  us  enjoy  them.  When  are  you  coming?  I  sincerely 
hope  soon.  It  is  so  lovely  at  home.  Give  ever  so  much  love 
to  Auntie  Moore,  Lilian,  Aunt  Anna  and  all  the  family. 
With  ever  so  much  for  yourself, 

Your  loving  niece, 

Emma. 

Meadville,  August  31,  1860. 
Dear  Aunt  Lizzie : 

I  should  have  answered  your  letter  before  this  but  I 
have  really  been  too  busy.  I  am  having  the  house  cleaned, 
that  is,  the  paint  washed,  closets  cleaned  and  put  in  order 
and  windows  washed.  I  want  so  to  get  it  all  done  before 
Mother  comes.  I  have  also  got  all  my  corn  dried,  and  thir- 
ty-six quarts  of  blackberries  put  up.  Who  is  putting  up 
yours?  I  gave  your  note  to  Christina  and  delivered  your 
message  to  Harriet  Hodgson  who  says  she  will  go  up  and 
put  things  in  order.  She  says  the  windows  need  cleaning 
also.  Your  description  of  your  mishap  at  Pigeon  Cove 
was  very  amusing,  Rebecca  and  I  had  a  good  laugh  over  it. 
Uncle  Fred  came  home  last  night,  bringing  us  better  ac- 
counts of  Uncle  Edgar  than  our  last  letters  gave  us.  I  fear 
the  Isles  of  Shoals  will  not  be  beneficial  to  him.  I  should 
think  a  warmer  climate  would  be  better  such  as  Italy  or 


LETTEES  31 

1860 
Age  18 

Florida.  I  hope  he  will  have  no  more  pleuritic  attacks. 
Last  Wednesday,  Gertrude,  Mrs.  Laura  Rhees,  Ed,  Art, 
Rush,  Lizzie  and  I  went  down  the  canal  in  a  boat  about 
two  miles,  landed  and  had  our  dinner  there.  We  made  a 
fire,  the  boys  caught  half  a  dozen  frogs,  of  which  I  did 
not  partake.  We  had  roast  corn,  fried  frog  legs,  bread, 
biscuit,  cold  chicken,  ginger  bread,  peaches,  pears,  apples 
and  raspberry  shrub.  We  started  about  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing and  did  not  return  till  five  in  the  afternoon.  We  had 
a  fine  time.  Mrs.  Rhees  is  just  as  full  of  fun  as  a  girl.  Up 
to  all  sorts  of  fun.  Yesterday  Mrs.  Shippen  had  a  quilt- 
ing bee  to  make  comfortables  for  Mrs.  Edward  Shippen 
who  is  here  now.  We  made  three  comfortables  (wool  ones) 
in  the  afternoon.  They  had  made  three  in  the  morning. 
We  had  quite  a  nice  time.  Tomorrow  is  Mass  Meeting  and 
I  suppose  the  town  will  be  full.  We  are  living  chiefly  on 
apples,  pears  and  peaches.  The  grapes  are  not  thoroughly 
ripe  yet.  Those  that  Father  sent  Uncle  Edgar  were  the 
ripest.  I  hope  they  got  there  safely.  We  are  having  beau- 
tiful weather,  clear,  cool  days  and  fine  moonlight  nights. 
I  shall  be  thankful  indeed  when  Mother,  Nettie  and  other 
friends  return,  it  is  very  lonely  at  home.  I  go  to  bed  near- 
ly every  night  at  eight  o'clock, — nine  is  quite  late  now  to 
me.  My  eyes  have  been  troubling  me  a  good  deal  again. 
They  are  very  weak  and  I  can  use  them  but  little.  Mrs. 
Shippen  has  quite  a  house  full  now.  All  the  Rheeses  are 
there  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  Shippen.  Mrs.  Shippen, 
Jr.,  expects  her  Sisters,  Miss  Sally  Stokes  and  the  one  who 
was  lately  married — Molly,  I  think — here  this  week  or  next. 
I  do  not  know  where  Mrs.  Shippen  expects  to  stow  them  all. 
All  at  Uncle  Edgar's  are  well.  I  go  up  nearly  every  day 
to  see  little  Frank.  He  is  just  as  sweet  and  cunning  as  he 
can  be.  He  takes  possession  of  me  as  soon  as  I  arrive,  and 
leads  me  out  to  the  barn  to  see  the  ducks  or  the  horses. 
Lizzie  and  Rush  are  learning  to  row.  Rush  was  so  delight- 
ed with  a  brass  horn  (a  cornet)  of  Joe  Shippen 's  that  he 
has  purchased  for  himself  a  dinner  horn  which  he  has  been 


32  LETTEES 

1863 
Ago   21 

blowing  with  great  gusto  all  day.  Father  and  I  are  going 
out  rowing  so  I  must  close.  Love  to  all  at  the  Isles  of 
Shoals.  Tell  Henry  I  came  near  writing  him  an  account 
of  the  race  but  did  not  as  I  found  Father  had  done  so  in 
a  letter  to  Uncle  Edgar.  AVith  much  love  for  yourself,  I 
remain 

Your  loving  niece, 

Emma. 
P.  S. — Rush  is  just  passing  tooting  vigourously  on  his 
horn. 

Meadville,  November  22,  1863. 
Dear  Aunt  Lizzie : 

If  you  were  at  home  this  lovely  afternoon  I  should 
go  up  and  see  you,  but  as  you  are  not  I  just  make  a  letter 
do.  I  have  been  meaning  for  ever  so  long  to  write  to  you 
and  Auntie  Moore,  but  it  seems  as  though  I  should  never 
get  through  answering  the  letters  that  came  while  I  was 
sick.  I  am  perfectly  well  now  and  more  fleshy  than  I  have 
been  for  years.  I  think  my  fever  did  me  good.  I  must 
have  got  along  remarkably  well.  Dr.  Ray  is  not  yet  able 
to  sit  up.  Frank  Shippen  came  home  very  unexpectedly 
yesterday.  He  had  written  that  the  doctor  had  advised 
his  leaving  St.  Paul  and  spending  the  winter  in  AVinona. 
They  were  much  surprised  therefore  yesterday  to  receive  a 
despatch  from  him  asking  to  have  the  buggy  at  the  depot 
at  two  0  'clock.  Fred  says  he  seems  about  the  same  as  when 
he  left  Meadville,  only  a  little  weaker.  It  will  be  a  double 
charge  for  Mrs.  Shippen.  Ruth  is  still  unwell  and  the 
doctor  fears  she  will  never  be  well  again.  She  has  a  cough 
and  I  think  her  lungs  are  already  affected.  Mrs.  Rush 
Shippen  left  last  Thursday.  Joe  Shippen  has  gone  with 
her.  He  has  accepted  a  situation  in  the  High  School  at 
Worcester  as  teacher,  (not  principal),  with  a  salary  of 
$1000  per  annum.  Mrs.  Evans  Shippen  is  still  here.  I 
wish  I  could  send  Auntie  Moore  some  of  the  lovely  white 
chrysanthemums  and  heartsease  which     Father  has  just 


LETTERS  33 

1863 
Age  21 

brought  in.  They  are  as  fresh  and  beautiful  as  though 
never  a  frost  had  touched  them.  I  hope  you  are  having  as 
pleasant  weather  in  Philadelphia  as  we  are  here.  Today 
is  lovely  though  cold.  Father  and  I  went  to  Cleveland  last 
Wednesday  on  the  excursion  to  celebrate  the  opening  of  the 
railroad  to  that  place.  We  had  lovely  weather  both  days 
we  were  gone  and  I  enjoyed  myself  very  much.  Father  en- 
joyed it  too  I  think.  The  ball  was  very  gay.  I  met  a  great 
many  of  my  old  acquaintances  of  last  winter  who  had  come 
from  New  York ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kennard  among  them.  Gen- 
eral Roseerans  was  on  the  train  and  made  a  short  speech 
at  the  depot  here  and  another  in  the  ball  room  at  Cleve- 
land. I  only  heard  the  last  which  was  terribly  blundering 
and  awkward.  Coming  back  we  had  Governor  Yates,  of 
Illinois,  and  family  with  us.  They  were  quite  pleasant. 
Mrs.  Stearns  wrote  Mother  the  other  day  that  Mr.  Buck 
had  had  a  call  to  Fall  River,  and  that  he  and  Mary  were 
soon  to  be  married.  The  death  of  Mr.  Irwin  was  announced 
in  church  this  morning.  You  know  his  wife  who  comes  to 
church  regularly.  She  sits  some  distance  behind  Father's 
pew.     .     .     . 


1865 
Age  23 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  1865 

FIRST  SOJOURN  IN  EUROPE 

London,  November  12th,  1865. 

We  sailed  from  New  York  on  "Wednesday,  the  first  of 
November,  in  the  steamer  "Scotia",  Captain  Judkins.  I 
had  fully  intended  keeping  up  my  Journal  during  the 
voyage,  but  soon  found  that  it  was  impossible,  being  too 
ill  most  of  the  time  to  leave  my  berth.  During  the  whole 
voyage  we  had  the  most  perfect  weather.  The  Captain 
said  it  was  the  most  remarkable  passage  he  had  ever  made, 
and  Mr,  Woods  said  he  had  crossed  thirty-nine  times  and 
had  never  had  so  fine  a  trip  before.  I  cannot  say  I  much 
enjoyed  it.  I  began  to  feel  ill  the  first  night  and  continued 
so  at  intervals  all  through  the  voyage.  Some  days  I  dragged 
myself  on  deck  for  a  time — but  most  of  the  daj^  was  spent 
in  my  berth.  There  I  was  moderately  comfortable,  the 
only  annoyance  arising  from  the  incessant  solicitations  of 
the  stewardess,  Mrs.  Gordon,  that  I  should  eat.  At  six  she 
would  rouse  me  from  my  sleep  by  appearing  at  my  bed- 
side with  a  bowl  of  soup,  at  half  past  eight  again  soup ;  at 
ten  soup ;  at  twelve  soup ;  at  four  soup,  and  at  seven  tea. 
I  confess  that  the  beef  or  chicken  soup  was  nice  and  I  real- 
ly became  fond  of  it,  but  days  when  I  was  very  sick  the 
mention  of  food  was  unbearable.  Indeed  I  threatened  to 
throw  my  book  at  Mrs.  Gordon  one  day  if  she  dared  to 
mention  soup  to  me  again.  Now  that  it  is  all  over  I  look 
back  with  some  pleasure  on  the  voyage.  The  Captain,  who 
was  very  kind,  I  had  met  in  Meadville.  Mr.  McHenry  took 
me  under  his  special  protection  and  I  spent  a  part  of  each 
day  in  the  Captain's  deck  cabin  which  Mr.  McHenry  oc- 
cupied. At  table  we  sat  with  the  Captain  at  the  head,  then 
Mr.  McHenry,  myself,  Miss  Whitmarsh,  Mr.  Gnowski,  Mr. 
Glynn,  Mr.  Sillo,  Mr.  Sattelthwaite,  etc.  On  the  other 
side,  Sir  Morton  Peto,  Mr.  Kellsall,  Mr.  Woods,  Mr.  Betts 
and  Mrs.  Glynn.  I  did  not  always  go  to  dinner,  but  tried 
to  be  up  for  at  least  one  meal  each  day.  After  the  first 
day  I  always  breakfasted  in  bed,  not  rising  till  after  lunch, 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  35 

1865 
Age  23 

and  often  not  till  after  dinner.  There  were  many  amusing 
people  on  board.  Mr.  Sillo,  the  Spanish  banker,  was  not 
well,  and  looked  gloomy  most  of  the  time,  but  once  in  a 
while  he  would  flash  up  and  make  us  all  laugh  with  his 
droll  grimaces  and  gestures.  Especially  on  the  subject  of 
his  birds  he  became  animated;  he  had  quite  a  collection, 
but  lost  a  mocking  bird  on  the  passage.  Mr.  Betts  spoke 
very  feelingly  of  the  death  of  the  "bale  bocking  bird", 
and  he  went  Isy  that  name  with  Miss  AV.  and  me  ever  after- 
ward. A  young  man  with  waxed  mustaches,  Mr.  Curtis, 
also  amused  us.  I  made  a  sketch  of  him,  also  of  the  "bock- 
ing bird",  but  neither  succeeded  very  well.  One  day  I 
sketched  a  whole  row  of  people  sitting  along  the  paddle 
box  rolled  up  in  rugs  and  shawls.  I  call  it  the  "Marine 
Hospital  on  board  S.  S.  Scotia" !  There  was  an  old  Quaker 
on  board  whom  I  also  sketched  and  who  amused  us  ex- 
ceedingly. The  life  on  the  ship  is  very  monotonous.  Break- 
fast at  8  :30,  lunch  at  12,  dinner  at  4  and  supper  at  10. 
The  rest  of  the  day  we  spent  on  deck  freezing,  reading, 
quizzing  people,  etc.  Many  went  into  the  saloon  to  read 
but  it  always  made  me  ill.  We  saw  Ireland  on  Friday 
morning.  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  coast,  both  because 
as  soon  as  I  saw  land  I  felt  well  again  and  because  it  M^as 
really  pretty.  The  coast  is  rocky ;  we  went  along  within  a 
mile  or  at  points  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  shore,  so  near 
that  once  a  sportsman  and  dog  were  plainly  visible,  and 
the  man  playfully  pointed  his  gun  at  the  ship.  The  "Old 
Head  of  Kinsale"  was  interesting.  I  made  a  very  rough 
sketch  of  it.  All  along  the  coast  we  saw  light  houses,  Mar- 
tello  towers,  castles,  etc.  At  eight  the  next  morning  we 
reached  Liverpool.  As  we  lay  in  the  Mersey  we  saw  the 
' '  Shenandoah ' '  which  had  come  in  the  day  before  and  was 
to  be  delivered  up  to  the  American  consul  that  afternoon. 
We  also  saw  the  "City  of  Manchester"  which  had  arrived 
the  day  before  and  unloaded  a  cargo  of  19,000  tons,  had 
taken  in  17,000  tons  and  was  to  sail  again  that  day  having 
been  in  port  just  thirty-six  hours.  The  landing  was  very 
wearisome.  We  sat  in  the  tug  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  At 
last  we  were  on  English  soil  and  dirty  enough  it  was ;  gray, 
drizzling,  foggy.  We  went  to  the  Waterloo  and  there  a 
Mr.  Hull  took  Miss  Whitmarsh  and  me  to  see  St.  George's 
Hall,  a  fine  structure  containing  one  noble  hall,  a  concert 
room,  library,  courts,  etc.  I  was  too  sleepy  and  tired  to 
enjoy  it  much.    We  lunched  at  the  Waterloo  and  then  went 


36  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

to  the  station.  In  the  train  Mr.  McHenry,  Miss  Whit- 
marsh,  Mr.  Goddard  and  I  were  in  one  coach.  The  coaches 
of  course  were  new  to  me  and  I  didn't  fancy  them  much. 
The  road  through  England  was  pleasant.  We  passed  Staf- 
ford seeing  the  castle,  then  Rugby,  not  seeing  the  school 
as  I  had  hoped;  Tamworth,  where  we  saw  the  tower  of 
Marmion.    You  will  recall, 

" Lord  Marmion 

Of  Tamworth  tower  and  town. ' ' 
We  reached  London  at  six  and  having  got  ourselves  and  our 
luggage  in  and  on  a  cab,  and  with  Mr.  Sillo  for  escort  we 
started  for  Madam  Zanchi's  where  we  arrived  safely.  Our 
rooms  are  delightful,  being  both  front  ones,  facing  the  War 
Office,  and  Clubs.  St.  James'  Palace,  Marlborough  House, 
etc.,  are  in  sight.  Our  parlour  is  delightful,  large  and  com- 
fortable, and  we  dine  alone  as  cosily  as  you  please.  Today 
we  are  resting ;  tomorrow  we  begin  our  sightseeing.  Before 
dinner  we  went  for  a  short  walk,  first  to  St.  James'  Palace, 
which  is  a  dark  gray  brick  building  with  heavy  stone  fac- 
ings ;  it  has  a  rather  castellated  appearance,  several  scarlet- 
coated  sentinels  were  pacing  the  arcades.  It  had  a  sombre, 
sleepy  look.  Here  the  Queen  holds  her  Levees  and  Drawing 
Rooms,  but  she  lives  at  Buckingham  Palace.  Many  of  the 
officers  of  her  household  have  rooms  at  St.  James '.  Next  it 
is  Marlborough  House,  the  residence  of  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales.  We  crossed  the  Mall  and  St.  James' 
Park  which  was  exceedingly  pretty.  An  artificial  river 
runs  through  it  on  which  were  ducks  and  geese.  The  trees 
were  most  of  them  foreign,  the  names  of  them  were  printed 
on  a  little  board,  also  the  country  of  which  they  were  na- 
tives, and  the  dates  of  their  introduction  into  England.  I 
should  think  this  might  be  most  instructive  to  the  poorer 
classes  who  swarmed  in  the  park.  We  returned  by  Carl- 
ton House  Terrace  which  is  indeed  a  fine  row  of  houses. 
Carlton  House,  I  presume,  is  in  fact  many  houses  where 
nobles  reside;  it  was  behind  Carlton  House  that  so  many 
duels  were  fought  when  there  were  no  buildings  beyond  it, 
and  only  open  ground  there.  We  came  round  by  the  Duke 
of  York's  steps  on  which  stands  the  statue  of  the  Duke 
and  beyond  is  the  Crimean  statue.  AVe  passed  the  Club 
Houses  and  got  back  to  dinner  which  we  much  enjoyed. 
After  dinner  Mr.  Sillo  called  and  amused  us  much  by  his 
odd  grimaces  and  his  funny  accounts  of  his  birds.  For 
one  he  paid  seventy  dollars,  and  now  finds  it  is  blind  of 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  37 

1865 
Age  23 

one  eye.  At  eight  we  had  tea  and  then  I  wrote  a  long 
letter  to  Father  and  Mother.  We  were  utterly  amazed  to 
find  it  was  nearly  twelve  when  we  thought  it  only  nine  or 
ten. 

Monday,  November  13th. 
We  did  not  get  up  early  as  we  meant,  we  were  so  Vv'eary 
and  sleepy.  We  breakfasted  at  ten,  and  then  taking  a  cab, 
drove  through  Temple  Bar  which  was  the  first  object  of 
interest  en  route  to  Baring  Brothers  where  we  presented 
our  letters.  We  were  kindly  met  by  Mr.  Russell  Sturgis, 
who  told  us  all  we  wished  to  know  and  after  a  ten  minutes' 
stay  we  left  and  drove  to  the  Tower.  It  seemed  strange,  as 
we  rode  along,  to  see  the  streets  and  places  of  which  we 
have  so  often  read  and  heard.  Drury  Lane,  Bow  Street, 
Charing  Cross,  Morley's  Hotel,  Fleet  Street,  Threadneedle 
Street,  Strand,  Lombard  Street,  and  oh,  so  many  others. 
We  reached  the  Tower,  sent  our  cards  in,  waited  a  moment 
in  the  gate  room  and  then  preceded  by  a  warden  dressed 
in  the  most  comical  manner,  we  entered  the  Tower.  We 
went  first  into  the  armoury;  there  in  the  first  room  were 
effigies  of  different  monarchs  dressed  in  the  armour  pecu- 
liar to  their  times.  Some  tiny  figures  represented  King 
Charles  when  two  years  old  in  armour  made  for 
him.  Also  the  young  King  Edward  who  was  so  foully 
murdered  in  the  Tower  with  his  little  brother,  the  young 
Duke  of  York,  by  their  wicked  Uncle  Richard,  Duke  of 
Grloucester.  We  saw  the  room  where  they  Avere  confined 
and  the  stone  steps  beneath  which  they  were  supposed  to 
have  been  buried.  We  saw  the  cell  in  which  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  was  confined  for  fourteen  years.  We  saw  the  block 
on  which  were  beheaded  Anne  Boleyn,  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
Catherine  Howard,  Lord  Lovat  and  Monmouth.  In  one 
room  we  saw  a  scythe  with  a  wooden  handle  which  was  one 
taken  from  the  rebels  under  Monmouth  at  the  battle  of 
Sedgemoor  when  he  was  defeated  by  King  James'  army. 
This  was  very  interesting  to  me.  It  was  near  the  behead- 
ing block  which  was  almost  the  most  interesting  thing  I 
saw.  I  stood  long  and  looked  at  it.  At  the  seams  in  it 
where  the  knife  had  cut  the  wool,  and  thought  of  pretty 
Anne  Boleyn  spanning  her  slender  neck  with  her  little 
hands  and  saying  ' '  It  will  be  easily  taken  off. ' '  But  it  took 
three  blows  to  sever  the  pretty,  silly  head  from  her  should- 
ers.     The  axe  stood  near  which  did  the  deed,  and  we  saw 


38  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

the  black  mask  of  the  executioner.  There  was  a  great 
effigy  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  royal  robes  on  a  white  horse 
held  by  a  page.  In  one  cell  Fox,  the  Martyr,  had  been 
confined.  We  saw  the  Regalia  or  crown  jewels  but  they 
were  not  very  interesting  to  me.  We  climbed  the  Beau- 
champ  Tower.  We  were  shown  the  immense  store  of  arms 
kept  in  reserve  in  case  of  war. 

From  the  Tower  we  drove  to  the  Royal  Exchange  where 
the  frescoes  were  very  fine.  Also  the  statues  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria and  Queen  Elizabeth  in  front  of  the  Exchange.  We 
went  across  to  the  Bank  of  England,  but  we  could  not  see 
over  it  as  we  had  no  pass.  We  went  to  the  Mansion  House 
and  then  to  St.  Paul 's.  Here  we  saw  such  oceans  of  statues 
of  heroes,  poets,  etc.,  that  I  can  only  mention  a  few.  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie,  Samuel  Johnson,  Henry  Hallam,  Mount- 
stuart  Elphinstone,  the  historian  of  India.  Below  in  the 
crypt  we  saw  the  tomb  of  the  great  Duke  of  Wellington, 
plain,  with  few  ornaments,  but  very  grand.  Near  it  is  the 
great  car  on  which  the  body  was  borne  to  its  last  resting 
place.  Next  is  Nelson 's  tomb.  From  St.  Paul 's  we  went  to 
the  American  Legation,  or  rather  to  Mr.  Adams',  in  Port- 
land Place.  We  found,  however,  our  passports  would  not 
need  to  be  vised  for  either  Holland  or  France.  We  came 
home  through  Regent  Street  which  was  very  fine.  I  saw 
the  Haymarket  Theatre.  Got  home  at  four,  went  to  the 
stationers  and  got  paper,  sketch  books  and  lots  of  other 
things.  Home  to  dinner  which  we  thoroughly  enjoyed. 
The  dressmaker  came  after  dinner.  We  w=rote  till  tea,  and 
then  till  bedtime.  The  weather  is  perfect,  cool — not  cold, 
dry, — the  sun  shining  through  a  light  mist,  not  fog.  We 
hope  to  go  tomorrow  to  Hampton  Court  and  Richmond. 


Tuesday,  November  14th. 

As  it  looked  like  rain  we  concluded  not  to  go  to  Hamp- 
ton Court  so  taking  a  cab  at  ten  we  drove  through  Tra- 
falgar Square,  past  the  Horse  Guards,  seeing  the  three 
mounted  sentinels  in  their  scarlet  coats  and  bright  steel 
breastplates  standing  in  the  niches,  to  the  Houses  of  Par- 
liament. A  policeman  had  told  us  they  were  not  open  ex- 
cept on  Saturdays,  but  that  Mrs.  Bennet,  the  housekeeper, 
might  possibly  let  us  have  a  private  view.  So  we  drove  to 
the  housekeeper's  door  and  were  told  by  a  girl  that  Mrs. 
Bennet  was  out.    We  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  in,  but 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  39 

1865 
Age  23 

she  said  there  was  no  hope  for  the  House  of  Lords  but  we 
might  perhaps  see  the  House  of  Commons.  After  some 
moments  of  persuasion  she  relented  and  said  she  would  do 
her  best.  She  tripped  on  before  us  and  quite  amused  us 
by  dodging  into  rooms  where  we  had  no  business  to  go,  and 
when  recalled  by  the  policeman  saying  so  innocently 
"Why,  I  thought  that  was  the  way."  She  coaxed  the 
guard  to  show  us  the  House  of  Lords,  with  which  I  was  a 
little  disappointed.  It  was  not  so  large  as  I  had  expected 
and  the  Woolsack  looked  exceedingly  uncomfortable.  The 
Throne  was  covered  so  we  could  only  see  the  carved  canopy 
which  was  quite  beautiful.  We  went  into  the  Ladies  Gal- 
lery. The  carving  all  over  the  house  and  the  stained  glass 
were  superb.  In  one  hall  there  were  some  fine  paintings, 
one  was  of  the  trial  of  Alice  Lisle  for  having  harboured 
fugitives  after  the  battle  of  Sedgemoor,  It  deeply  inter- 
ested me.  Our  little  guide,  nodding  as  she  went  to  all  the 
guards  and  servants  and  tossing  her  pretty  head  at  them, 
as  we  went  along,  led  us  to  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was 
just  being  cleaned  and  everywhere  carpets  were  up,  furni- 
ture strewed  about,  and  the  place  had  a  dull,  dismal  ap- 
pearance. We  were  allowed  to  sit  in  the  Speaker's  Chair. 
We  noticed  the  "Division  Bells",  which  are  struck  for  the 
counting  out.  The  Central  Hall  was  the  most  beautiful  of 
all;  the  floor  in  fine  mosaic  with  inscriptions  in  Old  Eng- 
lish. We  went  into  the  great  Westminster  Hall  where 
Charles  First  was  tried.  Then  a  queer  little  old  man  came 
up  to  us  and  asked  if  we  would  like  to  see  the  Courts  sit- 
ting. So  we  went  into  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  the 
Superior  Court,  and  lastly  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench 
where  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  sat.  The  Judges  looked  to  us 
very  oddly  in  their  black  robes  trimmed  with  ermine,  and 
their  great  wigs.  All  the  lawyers  seemed  to  wear  a  sort  of 
white  surplice  and  white  wigs  most  elaborately  curled  fin- 
ishing in  little  queues.  I  was  much  interested  in  them. 
Our  little  guide  took  us  most  satisfactorily  through  and 
after  properly  thanking  her  for  her  obligingness  we  drove 
just  across  the  street  to  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is  useless 
to  try  to  describe  it.  I  can  only  write  of  the  impression  it 
made  upon  me.  It  was  not  so  vast  as  I  had  thought,  but 
grander  in  a  way,  and  in  detail  so  wonderfully  old  and 
quaint.  We  entered  by  the  Poet's  Corner.  I  was  interest- 
ed in  the  tombs  of  Ben  Jonson,  Chaucer,  Goldsmith,  Dry- 
den,  Milton,  Garrick,  Shakespeare,  Southey,  Sir  Cloudesley 


40  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865  ' 

Age  23 

Shovel,  Dr.  Watts,  Dr.  Johnson,  Major  Andre,  Wilberforce, 
Keble.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  one  of  the  first  tombs  my 
eye  lighted  on  was  that  of  Barton  Booth,  the  ancestor  of  J. 
Wilkes  Booth,  the  infamous  assassin  of  Lincoln.  One  odd 
epitaph  I  am  going  to  insert  here, 

"To  the  pious  memory  of  Dame  Grace  Gethin, 
who  being  adorned  with  all  graces  and  perfec- 
tions of  mind  and  body,  crowned  them  all  with 
exemplary  patience  and  humility,  and  having  ye 
day  before  her  death  most  devoutly  received  Holy 
Communion  which  she  said  she  would  not  have 
omitted  for  ten  thousand  worlds  she  plainly 
evinced  her  sure  and  certain  hope  of  future  bliss 
and  thus  continuing  sensible  till  ye  last  she  re- 
signed her  pious  soul  to  God  in  fervent  transports 
of  spiritual  joy  and  comfort  for  her  near  ap- 
proach to  ye  Heavenly  Glory." 

In  the  chapels  the  most  interesting  tombs  to  me  were 
those  of  Frances,  Duchess  of  Suffolk,  the  mother  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey;  Philippa  de  Bohune,  wife  of  Edward  Plantage- 
net,  and  Eleanor,  wife  of  Edward  First.  I  think  this  is  the 
Queen  who  died  abroad  and  was  brought  home  by  her  dis- 
consolate husband  who  at  every  stopping  place  of  the  body, 
erected  a  cross.  The  last  but  one  being  at  Waltham,  and 
still  standing.  The  last  being  at  Charing  Cross  not  stand- 
ing, a  statue  of  Charles  First  having  taken  its  place.  The 
tomb  of  Halifax,  (George  Saville)  was  of  deep  interest  to 
me,  for  I  so  much  admired  his  character  in  reading  Ma- 
cauley's  History.  The  nave  of  Westminster  Abbey  I  can- 
not begin  to  describe,  its  height  and  majesty,  the  delicacy 
of  its  carving  and  tracery  are  beyond  my  power.  Wash- 
ington Irving  well  says:  "Stone  seems  by  the  cunning 
labour  of  the  chisel  to  have  been  robbed  of  its  weight  and 
density,  suspended  aloft  as  if  by  magic,  and  the  fretted 
roof  achieved  with  the  wonderful  minuteness  and  airy  se- 
curity of  a  cobweb."  We  had  not  half  time  to  enjoy  it. 
We  left  after  an  hour's  stay  and  went  to  the  Temple  Gar- 
den, and  then  to  Somerset  House  and  on  to  Regent's  Park 
to  see  the  Zoological  Gardens.  The  Park  was  very  beauti- 
ful and  the  houses  along  Cumberland  Terrace  were  exceed- 
ingly imposing.  We  reached  the  Gardens  but  alas!  it  had 
begun  to  drizzle.  We  nevertheless  saw  most  of  the  animals. 
The  birds  were  fine,  a  great  grey  crested  pigeon  especially 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  41 

1865 
Age  23 

delighted  me.  Also  the  crowned  crane  who  came  up  and 
spoke  to  us  and  asked  very  plainly  for  something  to  eat. 
The  eagles  and  vultures  were  having  a  family  quarrel,  for 
every  member  of  the  household  was  scolding  and  scream- 
ing at  the  others  most  furiously.  The  vultures  are  dis- 
gusting birds  with  their  red  eyes  and  bony  bodies.  The 
tigers  and  hyenas  were  the  most  interesting  to  me.  In  one 
cage  was  a  young  tiger  who  behaved  just  like  a  cat.  The 
keeper  called  it  and  it  came  and  rubbed  its  head  against 
his  hand.  The  next  two  were  very  savage,  next  them  was 
a  hyena;  the  keeper  went  for  a  piece  of  meat  to  make  him 
laugh ;  as  he  passed  the  tigers  they  set  up  a  most  ferocious 
and  fearful  roar.  The  hyena,  who  had  before  been  making 
a  queer  noise,  something  like  the  crying  of  a  child,  imme- 
diately set  up  a  frantic  yell  and  then  laughed  vociferously 
until  he  got  the  meat.  The  bears  Avere  stupid  except  one 
polar  bear;  the  seals  were  funny  fellows,  rolling  and 
tumbling  about  in  the  water.  The  monkeys  were  immensely 
amusing,  they  chattered  and  screamed  and  ate  what  one 
gave  them,  but  I  soon  tired  of  them.  We  drove  home  and 
dined.  After  dinner  Mr.  McHenry  called  but  only  stayed 
a  few  minutes ;  he  is  to  take  us  to  the  Bank  of  England  on 
Thursday. 


Wednesday,  November  15th. 

We  went  today  to  the  British  Museum.  Miss  W.  was 
deeply  interested  in  it.  The  animals  and  birds  were  no 
doubt  very  fine,  but  having  seen  so  many  live  hanimals  yes- 
terday I  soon  tired  of  this  collection.  A  pretty  collection 
of  wood  ended  the  walk  through  these  rooms  much  to  my 
delight,  for  I  was  aching  to  get  to  the  National  Gallery 
where  we  went  next.  I  ought  to  add  that  the  Egyptian 
rooms  were  very  interesting,  and  the  British  antiquities 
and  some  old  painted  china  were  superb  and  all  interested 
me.  At  the  National  Gallery  we  went  through  rooms  filled 
with  pictures  by  the  old  masters ;  there  were  fine  specimens 
of  Rembrandt,  Titian,  Perugino,  Fra  Angelico,  Murillo 
and  Raphael,  but  oh !  I  could  hardly  wait  to  get  to  the  Tur- 
ners. My  first  sight  of  Turner,  and  I  was  not  disappointed. 
I  cannot  describe  how  delighted  I  was.  I  think  I  might  be- 
come a  second  Ruskin  in  point  of  admiration  soon;  such 
distance,  perspective,  light,  shade,  colouring.  The  colour- 
ing was  grand  but  the  perspective  excelled  anything  I  have 


42  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

ever  imagined.  I  had  all  too  little  time  to  study  these  pic- 
tures. The  ones  I  liked  best  were  the  "Temeraire," 
"Caligula's  Palace,"  "Bay  of  Baiae,"  "Childe  Harold's 
Pilgrimage,"  "Apollo  and  Daphne,"  "Hero  and  Lean- 
der."  These  were  all  large.  Among  the  smaller  beauties 
was  one  lovely  little  thing,  a  landscape  quite  dark  in  which 
out  of  a  black  sky  the  moon  shines  and  one  brilliant  star. 
How  Turner  got  the  intense  brightness  of  the  moon  I  can- 
not see.  The  star  almost  scintillates.  Another  was  a  view 
of  cattle  in  the  water  and  a  sand  bank  with  gypsies;  an- 
other of  a  frosty  morning  was  my  delight.  "Edinburgh 
from  Calton  Hill,"  "The  Sun  of  Venice,"  "Going  to  Sea," 
were  all  fine.  Two  unfinished  pictures,  "Petworth  Park" 
and  "Chichester"  immensely  pleased  me.  The  "Petworth, 
Park ' '  showed  broad  wet  sands  with  a  group  of  cows ;  the 
reflection  of  the  cows  in  the  pools  of  water  was  perfect. 
We  had  to  go  at  last  much  to  my  regret ;  we  walked  home, 
dined  and  wrote  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Friday,  November  17. 
We  secured  this  morning  our  berths  on  the  "Batavia" 
for  Rotterdam.  We  then  drove  to  Covent  Garden  market 
where  I  bought  a  little  bunch  of  English  violets  and  a 
prickly  pear  for  curiosity.  It  tastes  like  a  May  apple  and 
smells  like  clover.  We  went  to  Baring  Brothers  and  saw 
Mr.  Russell  Sturgis  and  settled  all  our  affairs.  We  then 
went  to  Kensington,  going  through  Hyde  Park.  I  did  so 
enjoy  it ;  it  seemed  like  a  glimpse  of  the  country,  the  smell 
of  the  leaves  and  trees  was  so  sweet.  At  Kensington  we 
went  through  endless  rooms  and  after  many  digressions  to 
right  and  left,  we  reached  the  picture  gallery.  Here  we 
saw  any  number  of  examples  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
Gainsborough  and  Stanfield.  One  of  the  "Giudecca  at 
Venice"  was  lovely.  Rosa  Bonheur's  "Horse  Fair"  of 
course  interested  me.  Then  there  were  delectable  Turners 
which  were  what  I  came  to  see,  only  there  were  very  few 
of  them.  I  cannot  express  the  delight  that  Turner  gives 
me.  There  were  also  some  Gilbert  Stuart  portraits;  there 
were  many  artists  in  the  room  copying.  It  roused  all  my 
old  longing  again,  and  I  know  I  shall  be  wretched  if  I  do 
not  get  to  painting  in  Rome. 

Sunday,  November  19, 
We  were  both  up  bright  and  early  and  after  breakfast 
the  courier  came  and  we  made  all  necessary  arrangements. 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  45 

1865 
Age  23 

He  seems  a  very  nice  person  indeed,  and  it  is  so  nice  to 
have  nothing  to  worry  or  annoy  one.  We  took  the  steamer 
' '  Batavia ' '  at  Blackwall  going  there  by  rail  from  the  Fen- 
church  Street  Station,  We  had  to  wait  some  time  for  the 
boat,  but  when  she  came  we  found  her  more  comfortable 
than  we  expected.  Our  stateroom  was  much  larger  than 
on  the  "Scotia."  We  sat  bundled  up  in  our  cloaks  and 
waterproofs  on  the  deck  till  two  o'clock.  We  got  on  pretty 
well  till  we  left  the  river ;  then  we  went  below  as  we  began 
to  feel  uncomfortable.  After  getting  to  bed  we  felt  better, 
but  the  boat  pitched  and  rolled  and  tossed  and  tumbled 
in  the  most  dreadful  way,  and  the  chains  rattled  and  the 
sailors  howled  and  one  would  have  thought  we  were  all 
going  to  the  bottom  at  once. 

Monday,  November  20. 
We  did  not  get  up  until  eleven;  we  had  been  going 
through  endless  locks  but  at  last  emerged  into  the  great 
open  stretch  of  the  canal.  Such  a  funny,  funny  country  as 
Holland  seemed  to  me;  all  dykes,  windmills  and  poplars; 
here  and  there  a  village  with  queer  houses  and  great  hay 
ricks  and  men  in  queer  square  caps,  and  women  with  great 
white  muslin  bonnets  and  immense  wooden  shoes.  At  last 
we  reached  Rotterdam,  lunched  at  the  station  where  the 
restaurant  was  filled  with  shelves  of  curious  Chinese  and 
Japanese  china,  some  of  it  very  fine.  There  was  an  odd 
looking  girl  with  an  immense  white  lace  cap  under  her 
bonnet,  and  the  queerest  pins  formed  of  a  great  spiral  coil 
of  brass  wire  on  each  side  of  her  face.  After  lunch  we 
took  the  train  for  Amsterdam.  We  passed  through  Utrecht, 
but  saw  very  little  of  it.  When  we  reached  Amsterdam  I 
was  horrified  to  see  a  porter  running  along  the  platform 
with  my  trunk  on  the  top  of  his  head.  I  expected  to  see 
the  man  fall  and  be  crushed  flat,  but  he  didn't.  On  reach- 
ing the  hotel  I  sent  my  card  to  Cousin  P.  van  E.,  who  called 
soon  after.  He  was  very  pleasant,  talks  English  well.  We 
had  thought  of  going  to  Harlingen  tomorrow,  but  on  hear- 
ing that  Ristori  was  to  play  here  tomorrow,  we  concluded 
to  stay.  Cousin  P.  is  to  get  us  seats  and  also  to  show  us 
over  the  city.  We  are  invited  to  dine  with  the  van  E.'s  and 
we  shall  go  to  Harlingen  on  Wednesday.  A  very  touching 
scene  occurred  on  the  "Batavia";  I  had  noticed  a  bright 
looking  man  whose  wife  was  evidently  in  the  last  stages  of 
consumption.    She  was  as  white  as  could  be,  a  mere  skele- 


44  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  28 

ton  and  so  weak.  I  never  saw  a  more  pitiful  sight.  A 
little  baby  was  evidently  in  consumption;  there  was  also 
a  child  of  seven  and  a  girl  of  ten.  As  we  neared  the  dock 
the  man  shouted  and  waved  his  hand  to  two  boys  on  the 
pier.  As  the  boat  touched  shore  they  sprang  on  board. 
The  smaller  boy  rushed  to  his  Mother,  clung  to  her  and 
wept  loudly.  The  elder  boy,  more  quiet  in  his  grief,  at 
seeing  her  so  feeble  turned  away  to  hide  his  tears.  The 
Father  filled  with  joy  and  sadness  combined  called  their 
attention  to  the  new  baby  which  they  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. The  little  girls  were  overjoyed  at  seeing  their  broth- 
ers and  the  poor  Mother  sank  back  overcome  with  her  feel- 
ings. The  stewardess  told  me  the  family  came  from  St. 
Kitts,  West  Indies,  and  that  the  doctor  had  said  the  woman 
would  never  live  to  reach  home,  probably  the  hope  of  see- 
ing her  boys  had  just  kept  her  alive.  I  never  was  more 
touched  at  any  sight. 

Our  room  at  the  Doelen  Hotel  is  quite  nice,  immensely 
large,  32  feet  long  and  a  queer  shape.  The  doors  are  made 
so  that  they  do  not  show,  being  papered  like  the  wall ;  the 
beds  have  great  white  canopies  and  the  room  is  so  big  that 
the  two  wax  candles  only  light  the  centre  of  it. 

Tuesday,  November  21.  ^ 
Cousin  P.  called  with  Miss  G.  H,  and  took  us  to  the 
gallery  of  pictures.  We  were  both  exceedingly  interested 
in  all  we  saw.  Rembrandt 's  picture  of  ' '  The  Night  Watch ' ' 
was  specially  wonderful.  "The  Evening  School,"  by 
Gerard  Dow,  was  quite  beautiful.  Two  tables,  on  each  a 
candle,  and  clustered  about  some  children.  The  teacher  is 
turning  to  hold  up  a  warning  finger  at  some  mischievous 
boy ;  the  children  are  bending  with  intense  faces  over  their 
books  and  the  candle  light  shines  and  lights  up  the  faces 
marvelously.  The  National  Gallery  of  London  offered  3000 
pounds  for  it  and  did  not  obtain  it.  We  went  later  to  see 
Mrs.  J.  R.  I  had  not  an  idea  what  relation  she  was  to  me, 
but  she  was  so  kind  and  sweet  that  any  embarrassment  dis- 
appeared in  a  moment.  We  lunched  with  her  and  then 
went  to  Mrs.  A.  H. 's  who  asked  us  to  dine  on  Monday. 
She  showed  me  a  portrait  of  my  Grandfather.  I  saw  at 
Mrs.  R. 's  a  portrait  of  Mrs.  Annette  van  E.  after  whom 
Nettie  was  named ;  she  was  very  handsome.  Altogether  I 
was  much  delighted  with  my  cousins.  Their  houses  are 
delightful.    We  dined  that  evening  at  Mr.  C.  P.  van  E.'s 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  45 

1865 
Age  23 

and  had  a  very  pleasant  evening;  family  most  interesting 
to  me.  Mr.  van  E.  very  handsome  and  portly,  Mrs.  van  E, 
cordial  and  sweet  like  her  sister,  Cousin  G.  The  eldest 
daughter  is  a  cripple,  but  as  sweet  as  a  dove  and  P.  said 
she  was  the  sunshine  of  the  house.  We  had  a  dinner  of 
ten  courses  and  afterward  looked  at  the  paintings  which 
are  superb;  the  walls  are  entirely  covered  with  them.  I 
went  to  sit  with  the  lame  sister  and  showed  her  all  my 
photographs  at  which  she  seemed  much  pleased.  Every 
one  receives  me  kindly.  At  seven  we  went  to  the  theatre 
with  Cousin  P.  to  see  Ristori  in  Medea ;  I  was  utterly  car- 
ried away  by  such  acting  as  I  had  never  seen  before.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  act  Ristori  was  called  to  the  foot- 
lights; the  manager  led  her;  his  dress  coat  rather  odd 
among  the  Greek  costumes.  He  read  an  address  of  wel- 
come which  being  in  Dutch  we  could  only  understand  when 
he  repeatedly  said  "Welcome,  welcome."  A  wreath  was 
presented  to  her,  the  manager  kissed  her  hand  vociferously 
and  the  curtain  fell  on  this  affecting  scene.  Ristori  is  fine 
looking  with  a  noble  face  and  dark  luxuriant  hair.  I  held 
my  breath  to  catch  every  word ;  the  acting  was  wonderful ; 
I  shall  never  forget  it  and  I  hope  I  may  see  her  again.  It 
is  something  to  remember  for  a  lifetime. 

Wednesday,  November  22. 
Left  Amsterdam  for  Harlingen  by  boat ;  we  stayed  on 
deck  and  sketched  the  helmsman.  At  five  o'clock  we  reached 
Harlingen  but  did  not  land  till  six  as  there  was  great  diffi- 
culty in  getting  the  boat  to  the  dock.  On  stepping  ashore 
we  were  most  warmly  welcomed  by  Cousin  J.  and  his  son, 
C.  We  drove  to  the  house  where  Cousin  G.  met  us  in  the 
hall;  it  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  She  was  just  as 
lovely,  beautiful  and  sweet  as  the  one  at  home. 

Thursday,  November  23. 
We  breakfasted  at  nine  and  later  I  went  to  walk  with 
G.  and  was  much  pleased  with  Harlingen.  The  town  is 
about  the  same  size  as  Meadville,  but  is  much  more  com- 
pact, canals  run  in  the  middle  of  some  of  the  streets;  the 
town  is  very  clean  and  there  are  very  few  vehicles.  The 
houses  all  have  their  gable  ends  to  the  street.  The  men, 
women  and  children  are  all  in  wooden  shoes,  and  the 
women  wear  strange  gold  or  silver  blinders, — I  don't  know 
what  else  to  call  them.     They  tie  their  aprons  twice,  wear 


46  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

great  bustles  and  queer  lace  caps;  the  hair  does  not  show 
at  all.  In  the  evening  Cousin  J.  H.  called  and  also  her 
husband ;  altogether  a  very  pleasant  day. 

Friday,  November  24. 
We  breakfasted  early  and  drove  to  Boldsward  to  see 
Cousin  W.  H.  The  drive  was  a  delightful  one  of  about  an 
hour  and  a  half;  the  air  quite  warm,  the  road  as  level  and 
smooth  as  a  floor,  the  little  villages  so  quaint.  The  farm- 
houses with  immense  roofs  and  surrounded  with  hay  ricks. 
We  reached  B.  at  eleven  and  Cousin  W.  met  us  at  the  door 
with  his  wife  and  little  daughter,  Catotje.  We  sat  down 
immediately  to  lunch  and  had  such  delicate  delicious  rolls 
as  I  never  tasted  before.  The  table  was  beautifully  set 
with  exquisite  china;  indeed  all  the  Dutch  china  is  beau- 
tiful. They  have  in  every  parlour  a  cabinet  filled  with  the 
most  exquisite  porcelain.  The  little  Catotje  was  charming 
beyond  expression;  once  she  was  about  to  ask  for  some- 
thing and  checked  herself  and  said  ' '  They  become  nothing, 
children  who  ask. ' '  They  gave  me  a  picture  of  her  which  I 
prize.  After  lunch  we  went  to  see  the  old  church  built  in 
1540  and  to  the  old  State  House  where  there  were  pre- 
served old  pewter  tankards  and  goblets;  there  were  also 
some  old  pictures  on  the  walls.  We  soon  took  leave  of  these 
kind  cousins  and  the  bewitching  Catotje  and  drove  back 
to  Harlingen.  That  evening  a  funny  Dutch  clergyman 
called ;  he  could  not  speak  English  but  when  he  went  away 
he  made  us  a  little  bow  and  said  ' '  Good  evening  ladies  and 
may  God  you  bless. ' ' 

Monday,  November  27. 
We  went  in  the  morning  to  do  a  little  shopping  and 
dined  with  Cousin  J.  H.  It  was  very  pleasant  and  at  the 
close  of  dinner  Mr.  H.  made  a  very  neat  little  speech  say- 
ing how  glad  they  had  been  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
an  American  cousin,  and  how  earnestly  he  hoped  we  would 
have  a  safe  and  pleasant  journey  and  soon  revisit  them. 
Then  they  all  drank  to  my  health  and  that  was  the  end  of 
the  dinner. 

Tuesday,  November  28. 
At  eleven  Cousin  J.   came  to  take  me  to  sketch  tlie 
house  where  my  Great-Grandfather  lived.     I  made  a  very 
rude  sketch  of  it  which  I  shall  try  to  improve. 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  47 

1865 
Age  23 

Wednesday,  November  29. 
"We  rose  at  seven  and  after  a  hurried  breakfast  drove 
to  the  steamer;  it  was  hard  to  bid  good  bye  to  such  dear 
Cousins  as  they  have  become  to  me.  Cousin  J.  asked  me 
to  come  and  stay  with  her  next  summer ;  I  love  her  dearly. 
It  was  terribly  hard  to  part  with  Cousin  G.  I  have  so 
learned  to  love  her  and  dear,  dear  Cousin  H.  is  like  a  moth- 
er, she  is  so  sweet  and  has  been  so  tender  and  watchful 
over  me.  Cousin  J.  came  to  the  boat  with  us ;  the  day  was 
damp  so  we  stayed  below  all  the  time  and  read  and  drew. 
We  got  to  Amsterdam  at  half  past  two,  I  did  not  find 
Adolphe,  but  met  him  soon  and  he  landed  us  safely  at  the 
hotel  where  we  found  two  elegant  rooms  ready  with  a  good 
fire. 

Thursday,  November  30. 
We  breakfasted  about  ten  and  then  taking  Adolphe 
went  off  for  some  shopping.  Our  first  purchase  was  seven 
pairs  of  white  and  buff  kid  gloves  for  the  enormous  sum 
of  one  dollar  and  three  quarters!  Just  what  we  pay  at 
home  for  one  pair,  and  they  seem  quite  good  too.  I  also 
purchased  a  portfolio  and  some  lace  and  looked  for  a  hat 
but  found  none.  We  had  been  wishing  for  a  picture  of 
Lincoln  and  in  a  print  shop  Miss  W.  carelessly  picked  a 
card  photograph  from  a  large  box  of  them  and  what  was 
our  delight  to  see  the  familiar  face  of  our  dear  dead  Presi- 
dent. Of  course  we  bought  it.  We  hoped  to  have  a  regu- 
lar Thanksgiving  dinner  to  ourselves  but  as  we  were  asked 
to  Mrs.  A.  H. 's,  we  made  our  breakfast  a  dinner;  we  put 
up  a  little  flag  and  a  few  red,  white  and  blue  ribbons  and 
donned  our  Union  bows.  Later  Cousin  P.  came  in  with 
his  Uncle,  Admiral  van  Karnebeck,  of  the  Hague.  The 
Admiral  was  extremely  pleasant  and  he  had  very  kindly 
brought  me  from  his  wife  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
Madame  du  Chastel,  in  Rome.  One  of  his  sons  is  attached 
to  the  Dutch  Legation  at  Washington. 

Friday,  December  1. 
We  were  ready  just  in  time  for  Cousin  P.  this  morn- 
ing. He  brought  me  a  little  present,  the  ' '  Paris  en  Ameri- 
que ' '  of  which  he  spoke  a  few  days  ago  and  asked  we  when 
I  had  read  it  to  write  him.  I  promised  to  send  him  a 
critique  which  I  do  not  doubt  will  be  profound  and  inter- 
esting! We  went  to  the  Fodor  Museum.  There  we  saw 
the  paintings  and  drawings  left  by  Mr.  Fodor  to  the  city. 


48  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1865 
Age  23 

The  rooms,  six  in  number,  were  very  finely  lighted  and  ar- 
ranged. Many  of  the  pictures  interested  me,  the  great 
"Christus  Consolator"  of  Ary  Scheffer  was  there;  it  was 
sublime.  We  spent  two  hours  among  these  treasures  and 
would  have  stayed  longer  but  we  had  promised  to  lunch  with 
Cousin  van  E.  After  lunch  we  went  to  the  Zoological  Gar- 
den ;  of  course  it  rained.  It  was  much  the  same  as  the  Lon- 
don one,  only  better  arranged  and  more  compact.  The 
birds  were  very  fine,  the  parrots  screamed  till  they  nearly 
deafened  us  and  the  owls  hooted  and  the  ducks  quacked 
till  I  was  nearly  distracted.  There  was  a  huge  rhinoceros 
in  a  tank  of  water  and  two  immense  hippopotami  in  a  huge 
pond  and  a  lot  of  tigers,  foxes  and  lions  as  usual.  Um- 
brellas were  in  requisition  and  the  water  dripped  on  my 
blue  silk,  my  dress  flapped  and  my  overshoes  sopped  and 
we  were  the  most  ridiculous  looking  creatures  in  pursuit  of 
knowledge  under  difficulties.  There  were  some  awful 
snakes  which  I  would  not  look  at,  and  an  alligator,  and  a 
queer  looking  salamander,  the  only  specimen,  but  one,  in 
Europe  and  it  came  from  Japan.  We  passed  some  huge 
bison  and  one  who  looked  quiet  enough  lying  down  sud- 
denly rose  and  advanced  with  awful  strides  towards  me 
and  I  for  the  moment  forgetting  the  iron  bars  was  fright- 
ened out  of  my  senses  and  retreated  suddenly  nearly  up- 
setting the  rest  of  the  party.  We  saw  the  giraffe  and  the 
elephants  and  then  they  took  me  to  see  the  dogs  which  were 
certainly  interesting  but  very  ferocious.  I  should  think 
we  spent  an  hour  and  a  half  travelling  round  those  gar- 
dens, poking  up  the  beasts  and  getting  beautifully  wet  and 
tired  and  generally  limp.  At  last  we  got  through  though 
I  think  had  there  been  more  to  see  P.  would  have  kept  us 
there  another  hour.  However  I  was  interested  and  he  was 
interesting,  for  he  knew  all  about  all  the  animals  and  their 
habits  and  I  really  enjoyed  it.  After  this  we  drove  to  a 
print  shop  and  selected  some  engravings  and  photographs. 
We  dined  that  evening  with  Cousin  J.  R.  I  think  she  has 
one  of  the  very  sweetest  and  kindest  and  most  beautiful 
faces  I  ever  saw.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  van  L.  were  also  there. 
We  spent  a  most  delightful  evening  and  I  received  from 
Cousin  P.  five  little  engravings  by  Bosboom  of  interiors 
which  we  had  looked  for  but  not  found  at  the  print  shop. 
He  is  certainly  the  kindest  of  Cousins.  We  came  home  to 
pack ;  oh,  this  endless  tiresome  packing ;  I  am  so  sick  of  it. 
I  don 't  want  to  leave  Holland,  it  seems  like  a  second  home. 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  49 

1865 
Age  23 

Saturday,  December  2. 
We  left  Amsterdam  this  morning  and  at  half  past  five 
we  reached  Antwerp.  We  have  good  rooms  at  the  Hotel 
St.  Antoine;  we  had  a  long  dinner  to  which  we  did  full 
justice  and  the  waiter  brought  us  the  New  York  Times  of 
November  18th  which  I  devoured.  It  was  as  good  as  the 
dinner  and  more  digestible.  After  dispatching  my  letter 
of  introduction  to  Mr.  Crawford,  our  Consul  at  Antwerp, 
we  sat  down  to  a  long  evening  of  posting  up  our  Journals 
which  brings  me  to  the  present  moment  at  ten  o  'clock  when 
we  propose  to  retire  beneath  a  great  balloon  of  eiderdown 
which  is  to  keep  our  feet  warm, 

Antwerp,  Sunday,  December  3. 
We  took  our  time  this  morning  and  did  not  breakfast 
till  after  ten ;  then  accompanied  by  Adolphe  we  went  to  the 
Museum  where  we  saw  the  great  collections  of  Rubens,  and 
Van  Dyck  paintings. 


Antwerp  strikes  us  so  far  as  a  very  modern  city,  but  we 
have  only  seen  a  few  streets.  We  have  enjoyed  seeing  from 
our  window  the  handsome  dresses  of  the  ladies  passing  and 
the  novel  uniforms  of  the  soldiers.  Some  of  the  old  women 
wear  such  queer  bonnets,  just  like  a  man's  hat  set  back  on 
their  heads.  Tomorrow  we  are  off  for  Paris ;  I  long  to  get 
there,  yet  I  confess  to  a  wish  it  were  Amsterdam.  I  have 
a  homesick  longing  for  Holland  again  and  all  the  dear 
Cousins. 

Paris,  Monday,  December  4. 
We  went  in  the  morning  to  one  or  two  shops  and  then 
to  the  church  of  St.  Jacques;  there  was  a  funeral  going 
on  and  a  hearse  was  at  the  door  with  black  horses  covered 
with  the  queerest  black  trappings.  The  priests  were  chant- 
ing and  just  after  we  entered  a  great  red  silk  banner  em- 
blazoned with  gold  was  raised  and  the  procession  moved 
down  the  aisle.  The  priests  in  white  and  black  and  red 
vestments  trimmed  with  gold  and  silver  preceded  the 
coffin  which  was  covered  with  a  great  black  and  yellow 
pall;  it  was  rather  impressive  and  the  church  as  a  whole 
impressed  me  even  more  than  Notre  Dame. 


50  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

Nice,  Friday,  December  15. 
We  went  out  today  for  a  walk  and  to  see  Marseilles;  I 
think  we  were  all  demented  for  we  went  straight  down  to 
the  docks  where  the  streets  were  filled  with  the  dirtiest 
people  and  such  smells,  and  boats  all  along  the  quay  from 
foreign  ports.  If  we  did  not  get  the  cholera  it  is  through 
no  fault  of  ours,  for  I  am  sure  we  walked  right  into  the 
best  place  to  get  it.  We  began  to  think  it  was  rather  reck- 
less and  turned  toward  home.  As  we  did  so  we  saw  a  ship 
which  was  unloading  oranges  and  the  women  were  carry- 
ing them  in  baskets  from  the  ship  to  the  quay  and  putting 
them  in  great  bags.  I  wanted  to  buy  some  but  they  would 
not  sell  them,  so  afterward  at  the  shop  I  got  some  very 
small  but  exceedingly  sweet  ones  which  they  call  Tan- 
gerines. At  one  o'clock  we  left  for  Nice;  the  journey  was 
delightful,  most  of  the  way  the  sea  was  in  sight  and  with 
the  clear,  blue  sky  and  the  picturesque  houses,  the  olive 
groves  and  warm  tinted  hills  it  was  a  lovely  sight.  As  the 
sun  went  down  the  rosy  light  on  the  hills  and  water  was 
beautiful  beyond  description.  I  was  sorry  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  Cannes  as  we  passed.  We  reached  Nice  about  seven 
and  came  to  the  Hotel  des  Etrangers;  we  got  very  good 
rooms,  but  as  I  was  very  tired  I  went  to  bed  right  after 
dinner. 

Nice,  Saturday,  December  16. 
This  has  been  a  most  beautiful  day,  just  like  June  at 
home.    The  trees  are  full  of  oranges,  the  garden  filled  with 
heliotrope,  roses,  daturas  and  ever  so  many  plants  new  to 
me ;  it  seemed  like  a  perfect  paradise. 


LETTER. 


Nice,  France,  Tuesday,  December  19,  1865. 
My  Dearest  Sister: 

I  wish  I  could  begin  to  tell  you  the  delight  I  exper- 
ienced this  afternoon  when  on  coming  in  from  a  sketching 
excursion  I  found  letters  awaiting  me.  Four  from  home 
and  yours  and  Arthur's.  I  fairly  devoured  them.  Mrs. 
Knowles  came  in  and  said  "Why  what  has  happened?  You 
look  so  radiant " !    I  sat  myself  down  on  the  sofa  before  the 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  51 

1865 
Age  23 

fire,  and  went  over  them  again  and  again.  Miss  Whitmarsh 
has  just  said,  ''Tell  Mrs.  Bond  if  she  does  not  get  my  love 
in  every  letter,  it 's  because  you  forget  to  send  it "  !  I  think 
though  that  I  have  not  forgotten  it !  Well  here  we  are  set- 
tled in  Nice  and  a  perfect  little  paradise  it  is.  I  am  utterly 
bewitched  by  the  place,  and  am  getting  every  drop  of  good 
out  of  it  that  can  be  got.  I  would  like  well  to  stay  here 
a  month  or  two  were  it  possible.  .  .  .  We  are  very 
comfortably  and  reasonably  lodged  at  the  Hotel  des  Etran- 
gers.  We  live  for  about  ten  francs  a  day  which  in  Nice 
is  very,  very  reasonable.  The  weather  is  just  perfect, 
thermometer  at  70,  sky  cloudless,  sea  as  blue  as  the  sky,  air 
like  a  June  day  at  home.  Orange  trees  full  of  fruit,  roses 
in  full  bloom,  ditto  heliotrope,  violets,  etc.  We  bought  a 
bunch  of  nineteen  rose  buds  for  four  cents,  and  a  bunch 
of  the  sweetest  orange  blossoms  for  the  same.  Oh!  if  I 
could  only  send  you  all  some  on  Christmas  morning!  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  get  you  any  pictures  you  like  in  Rome 
or  Florence,  and  will  send  you  the  prices  of  the  ones  you 
speak  of.  I  intend  sending  a  box  from  either  Florence  or 
Rome  with  several  paintings  for  Father  on  his  birthday; 
shall  send  them  by  a  ship.  I  did  give  Annie  the  pineapple 
handkerchief,  she  did  my  hair  so  nicely  and  helped  me  to 
dress  two  or  three  times  so  kindly  when  I  was  going  to 
parties,  that  I  gave  her  several  things  and  among  them 
that  handkerchief  which  I  had  had  for  four  years  and 
never  used.  We  met  in  Paris  a  Dr.  Minor  and  his  daugh- 
ter, of  Brooklyn,  and  have  met  them  again  here.  They  are 
most  delightful  persons.  The  Dr.  a  most  intelligent,  well 
read  man  who  reasons  about  what  he  sees  and  converses 
most  pleasantly.  We  are  most  pleased  with  them.  We 
hope  to  meet  them  in  Rome  and  Florence  again.  I  met  the 
Thorps  one  day  by  chance  at  the  Louvre  and  they  after- 
ward called  on  me  and  I  on  them.  We  hope  to  meet  Miss 
Weld  and  Miss  Alcott  here.  We  go  tomorrow  to  the  bank- 
ers to  get  their  address  and  then  to  call  on  them.  We  met 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Weld  in  Paris  and  they  gave  us  a  note  to 


52  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

Miss  Weld.  I  will  write  you  if  we  meet  them.  We  saw 
Geo.  Weld  in  Paris.  I  assure  you  I  enjoyed  my  Holland 
visit  most  thoroughly  and  became  quite  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  cousins,  more  especially  the  Harlingen  ones 
and  the  van  E.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  kind  Cousin  Pieter 
van  E.  was  to  us  and  if  he  comes  to  America  next  summer 
as  I  hope  he  will  we  must  do  all  we  can  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  him.  He  is  a  most  intelligent  fellow;  Miss  W.  was  as 
pleased  with  him  as  I  was.  I  am  so  sorry  about  Sophie's 
hair,  but  tell  her  with  my  love,  I  can  sympathize  with  her, 
having  gone  through  the  same  thing  myself,  and  it  isn't 
half  as  bad  as  one  thinks.  She  will  soon  be  able  to  wear 
braids  and  it  is  such  a  saving  of  trouble  to  have  no  hair 
to  put  up.  Mine  is  growing  most  marvellously,  I  do  think 
it  has  grown  two  inches  since  I  left  home.  .  .  .  We 
are  having  the  best  time  here.  At  nine  we  have  a  cup  of 
coffee  in  bed,  then  we  dress  and  at  10:30  breakfast,  ''a  la 
fourchette, " — you  know  what  that  is.  Then  go  out  for  a 
walk  on  the  Promenade  or  climb  the  hills  to  some  old  ruin 
and  sketch  or  just  sit  and  bask  in  the  hot  sunshine.  Some 
days  we  drive,  the  carriages  here  are  good  and  cheap.  We 
drove  this  morning  to  the  old  Chateau  on  the  hill  and  then 
sent  the  carriage  home  with  Adolphe  and  Mrs.  Knowles 
and  we  stayed  behind  to  sketch,  walking  home  afterwards. 
We  got  some  lovely  views.  I  cannot  remember  whether  you 
were  in  Nice  or  not  but  suppose  you  were  from  what  you 
say  of  it.  By  the  way,  the  weather  in  London  was  most 
perfect.  Only  one  rainy  day — all  the  rest  almost  clear, 
they  were  quite  mild  and  the  sun  really  shone.  Wasn't 
that  wonderful?  I  would  write  a  longer  letter  but  I  want 
this  to  go  by  tomorrow's  mail  arid  it  is  now  nearly  eleven 
and  Miss  W.  holds  up  a  warning  finger  at  me.  We  get  on 
famously.  She  does  take  such  good  care  of  me.  She  is 
just  an  angel,  I  love  her  most  dearly,  I  could  not  have 
found  in  the  world  a  dearer  friend  and  companion.  Don't 
speak  of  your  letters  being  a  bore.  If  you  knew  how  I 
enjoy  them  and  how  I  thank  you  in  my  heart  most  deeply 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  53 

1865 
Age  23 

for  writing  me  so  regularly  and  so  often.  No  one  has 
written  me  so  often  as  you  and  I  thank  you  most  deeply 
for  your  thoughtful  kindness  now  and  always.  .  .  . 
Kisses  for  the  dear  children,  I  saw  two  little  boys  dressed 
in  blue  velvet  the  other  day,  they  looked  so  sweet,  I  mean 
to  get  Gorham  a  blue  velvet  suit.  Best  love  to  George  and 
all  friends,  especially  Aunt  Anna's  family.  With  warmest 
love, 

Yours  ever, 

Emma. 


JOURNAL 


Nice,  Saturday,  December  23. 
At  eleven  this  morning  we  called  for  Miss  Eveleth  and 
then  for  the  Claghorns  to  drive  to  Villef ranche ;  the  road 
was  lovely.  If  possible  the  day  was  more  beautiful  than 
any  before;  nothing  was  wanting,  it  was  perfect.  We 
reached  Villefranehe  at  twelve  and  as  we  were  not  to  go 
on  board  the  ships  till  one  o'clock  we  sauntered  about  the 
town.  Such  a  funny  little  town;  one  street  ran  along  the 
shore  and  was  level;  the  other  street  ran  up  the  hill  and 
as  far  as  I  could  see  disappeared  in  a  crack  in  the  rock. 
It  was  so  steep  that  it  was  built  in  steps,  six  broad  steps 
and  a  rest  or  landing,  all  paved,  six  more  steps  and  another 
landing,  etc.  It  was  so  narrow  that  the  houses  nearly 
met  at  the  top.  It  was  filled  with  families  who  here 
seemed  to  live  out  of  doors  and  think  the  street  their 
legitimate  sitting  room.  The  market  was  on  one  side  of 
the  street  and  consisted  of  three  rickety  tables  whereon 
was  exhibited  the  dirtiest,  mouldiest  and  most  miserably 
rotten  looking  collection  of  vegetables  and  fruit  that  I  ever 
saw.  I  hailed  two  or  three  cats  and  a  dog,  but  they  did 
not  speak  English  and  couldn't  understand  me.  There 
were  a  lot  of  babies  crawling  about  and  tumbling  down 
steps  and  little  dark  eyed  girls  picking  them  up  and  old 
women  gossiping  and  knitting.  There  were  the  usual 
smells  and  a  general  state  of  filth  everywhere.  We  had  a 
glass  of  detestable  wine  and  some  cake  at  an  inn.  We  saw 
Admiral  Goldsborough  who  had  come  over  from  Nice  to 
inspect  the  ship.     Mr.  Claghorn  introduced  himself  to  the 


54  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1865  , 

Age  23 

Admiral  who  kindly  asked  us  to  go  over  to  the  ship  in  his 
little  boat,  which  he  had  just  signaled.  It  was  a  gem  of  a 
boat;  white,  lined  with  velvet  cushions  and  carpeted.  We 
had  eight  oarsmen.  We  were  hauled  on  board  the  ship  up 
some  terribly  steep  steps;  the  ship  was  in  splendid  rig,  it 
had  just  been  cleaned  and  the  decks  were  as  white  as  snow. 
The  sailors  were  drawn  up  to  salute  the  Admiral,  the  bands 
played  some  national  airs.  It  seemed  like  getting  on 
American  soil  again.  The  Admiral  presented  all  the  offi- 
cers to  us  and  they  showed  us  all  over  the  boat.  One  officer 
was  a  brother  of  General  McClellan;  another  a  son  of 
Senator  Harris.  The  Admiral  showed  us  his  room  and 
the  mess  room  and  the  officers  room  all  of  which  were  ele- 
gant. He  gave  us  some  excellent  water  which  was  dis- 
tilled from  sea  water — an  excellent  invention  as  it  obviates 
the  necessity  of  ships  going  into  port  when  low  in  supplies. 
This  ship  was  the  ' '  Colorado ' '  and  from  it  we  went  in  the 
ship's  boat  to  the  "Frolic"  where  we  met  Master  Miller 
and  another  officer.  This  boat  is  small  but  very  pretty. 
It  was  formerly  the  "Lord  Clyde"  of  the  British  marine 
and  was  a  blockade  runner  when  captured  by  our  fleet. 
The  "Colorado"  has  over  500  men,  officers  and  crew.  The 
"Frolic"  160.  On  the  "Colorado"  the  men  were  getting 
up  some  scenery  for  theatricals  on  Monday  night;  they 
have  some  negro  minstrels  and  a  theatrical  troupe.  They 
gave  us  one  of  the  programs  for  Monday  which  was  amus- 
ing. Master  Miller,  of  the  "Frolic",  said  he  was  a  con- 
nection of  the  Shaws  and  I  told  him  I  was,  so  we  claimed 
relationship  at  once.  If  a  person  is  only  a  fiftieth  cousin 
of  your  brother-in-law's  uncle  you  claim  relationship  here. 
He  is  from  Maryland  and  says  he  ran  away  to  sea  from 
college;  he  was  very  polite  and  kind  and  accompanied  us 
to  the  shore.  We  waved  a  farewell  from  the  carriage  as 
we  drove  up  the  hill.  We  rattled  back  to  Nice  and  left 
Miss  Eveleth  at  her  door;  then  we  came  home  to  a  quiet 
evening  spent  in  letter  writing. 


Sunday,  December  24. 

We  were  lazy  as  usual  and  got  through  breakfast  just 
in  time  for  church.  We  took  seats  near  the  door  in  order 
that  we  might  go  out  when  the  service  was  over  and  before 
the  sermon.  We  were  placed  in  a  pew  which  was  marked 
"Mrs,   Aubrey  Cartwright's  servants,"  so  I  suppose  we 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  55 

1865 
Age  23 

passed    for  her    domestics    though  we    were  in  our    best 
clothes !  We  walked  upon  the  Promenade  until  lunch  time. 

Mondaj^  December  25. 
Oh,  dear,  such  a  dismal  Christmas.  I  could  not  help 
being  blue  and  homesick.  I  got  up  feeling  miserably; 
after  breakfast  Miss  W.  and  I  went  for  a  walk.  Called  on 
Miss  Eveleth  but  only  saw  her  for  a  moment  as  she  was 
busy  with  Mr.  Ropes  who  was  quite  ill.  We  walked  back 
a  new  way  through  Carabacel.  Some  of  the  villas  were 
very  beautiful,  but  I  did  not  like  the  situation  so  much  as 
that  nearer  the  sea.  The  orange  trees  in  the  gardens  were 
lovely. 

Genoa,  Thursday,  December  28. 

We  left  Nice  this  morning,  bound  for  Genoa  by  boat. 
The  day  was  lovely  and  I  think  the  voyage  was  quite  as 
pleasant  as  the  land  trip  would  have  been.  The  scenery 
was  incomparable,  such  charming  little  towns  nestling 
along  the  shore  at  the  foot  of  the  hills.  Here  and  there  an 
enchanting  glimpse  of  snow-capped  Alpine  peaks.  We 
passed  Mentone  and  San  Remo.  About  two  o'clock  the 
views  became  perfect,  the  sea  and  sky  like  one  great 
sapphire,  the  sun  making  a  long  dazzling  trail  of  light 
over  the  water.  Here  and  there  a  pretty  Lateen  sail  skim- 
ming over  the  waves.  The  little  white  villages  with  their 
square  church  towers  and  old  castles,  the  near  range  of 
olive  covered  hills,  the  farther  mountains  bathed  in  a  soft 
mellow  haze,  and  far  back  the  exquisite  delicate  pearl  white 
peaks  of  the  Maritime  Alps.  We  stopped  at  St.  Maurice 
which  is  a  pretty  town.  Some  of  the  villages  seem  built  in 
the  most  inaccessible  places. 

I  am  more  and  more  struck  with  the  perfection  of  the 
scenery.  If  one  becomes  conscious  of  a  want  in  the  setting 
it  seems  instantly  to  be  supplied.  A  range  of  hills  stands 
out  too  boldly  perhaps,  against  the  sky  or  seems  monoto- 
nous in  outline.  Along  comes  a  little  fleecy  cloud  to 
soften  the  outline  and  break  up  the  sameness.  A 
long  rocky  pier  at  St.  Maurice  looked  rather  ugly 
and  suddenly  as  if  by  magic  three  women  appeared 
on  it  in  bright  dresses,  waving  their  hands  to 
friends  on  board.  This  lighted  up  the  long  pier  and 
made  the  usual  picture.  I  got  tired  of  the  long  coast 
line  and  waveless  sea,  and  promptly  a  lovely  little  Lateen 


56  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1865 
Age  23 

sail  appeared  dipping  leisurely  along,  hugging  the  shore 
and  keeping  in  sight  for  miles  to  perfect  my  enjoyment. 
One  sees  a  lovely  vista  of  hills  and  towns  and  towers,  and 
one  wonders  what  it  needs  and  finds  it  is  only  a  distant 
peak  to  give  it  distance.  One  turns  a  point  and  there  is 
your  peak  just  where  you  thought  it  should  be.  It  is  all 
quite  perfect  and  one  is  filled  with  delight.  In  one  of  the 
bays  we  saw  a  school  of  dolphins,  their  backs  shimmering 
in  the  sun  as  they  leaped  and  rolled  about  in  the  water. 
There  is  one  view  I  shall  never  forget.  I  had  been  insist- 
ing that  a  sunset  on  Lake  Erie  would  be  just  as  fine,  but  I 
had  to  give  in  and  say  nothing.  Oh,  the  crimson  mellow 
hazy  light  on  those  hills;  the  little  rosy  clouds,  the  soft 
undefined  headlands  along  the  shore,  the  tiny  white  vil- 
lages gleaming  through  the  mist,  the  trail  of  golden  light 
on  the  lovely  Mediterranean,  the  water  taking  every  hue 
of  the  sky,  the  gentle  melting  away  of  the  sunset  light,  the 
purple  veils  the  hills  put  on,  and  the  soft  pearly  hue  of 
the  snow  peaks  looking  like  fleecy  robed  spirits  half  seen 
and  the  sea  fading  into  a  gentle  neutral  tint,  with  the 
moon  bathing  in  it  and  yet  shining  like  a  spirit  above.  At 
seven  we  reached  Genoa  and  the  Hotel  "Croce  di  Malta". 
Once  a  palace  or  rather  two  or  three  palaces  patched  to- 
gether. 

Genoa,  Friday,  December  29. 

This  morning  we  went  to  visit  a  jeweler  in  the  hotel 
who  makes  and  sells  the  delicate  silver  and  silver  gilt 
jewelry  peculiar  to  Genoa.  We  then  drove  seven  miles  to 
a  villa  of  the  Marehese  Palavicini,  who  by  the  way  also 
owns  the  Generaliffe  at  Granada.  There  are  curiosities  in 
the  grounds  of  it;  an  artificial  grotto  in  which  the  huge 
stalactites  have  been  brought  from  all  sorts  of  places;  the 
trees  on  the  place  were  fine,  most  of  them  from  foreign 
countries,  cork  trees,  camphor  trees  and  a  sort  of  straw- 
berry tree.  There  was  a  seat  on  which  as  you  sat  jets  of 
water  poured  on  you,  and  an  arbour  where  the  same  thing 
happened  and  a  bridge  ditto ;  it  was  really  too  stupid.  At 
dinner  we  met  the  Claghorns  and  Mr.  C.  said  he  had  had 
an  invitation  for  us  to  a  levee  on  the  "Colorado"  and  had 
never  sent  us  word.  I  was  vexed  for  I  should  have  so  en- 
joyed it. 

Saturday,  December  30. 

We  ordered  some  oysters  for  breakfast  but  they  were 
not  at  all  good.     We  drove  first  to  the  Church  of  the 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTEES  57 

1865 
Age  23 

Annunziata  on  our  morning  round  of  sight  seeing;  then 
to  the  Royal  Palace  where  the  young  Prince,  the  youngest 
son  of  Victor  Emanuel,  lives.  He  is  nineteen  years  of  age, 
a  dwarf  and  an  invalid,  and  often  never  leaves  his  room 
for  months  at  a  time.  The  rooms  we  saw  were  hung  with 
silk,  satin  and  damask  and  we  saw  the  bed  which  the  King 
of  Portugal  slept  in  a  few  nights  since.  There  was  a  fine 
marble  terrace  and  in  one  hall  were  several  fine  parrots 
which  belonged,  I  suppose,  to  the  young  Prince.  We  had 
a  glimpse  of  his  suite  of  rooms  as  two  liveried  servants 
passed  inside.  The  most  interesting  place  we  saw  today 
was  the  Doria  Palace,  which  we  entered  by  a  fine  covered 
terrace  looking  into  a  garden  and  beyond  to  the  sea.  On 
the  terrace  we  saw  where  the  fine  old  frescoes  had  been 
and  from  a  heap  of  carved  wood  which  had  adorned  the 
outside  we  got  some  carved  roses  as  mementoes.  The  Rossi 
Palace  we  also  visited.  It  is  of  the  most  violent  red  colour 
outside  and  belongs  now  to  the  Brignole  family.  There 
were  some  eight  or  ten  rooms  filled  with  paintings  by  dif- 
ferent masters,  none  of  which  I  particularly  admired.  We 
sent  the  carriage  back  and  walked  along  the  street  looking 
into  the  shops;  we  priced  some  Genoa  velvet  and  found 
the  price  three  times  as  high  as  in  Paris. 

Sunday,  December  31. 
Breakfasted  at  half  past  seven  and  boarded  the 
"Barone  Ricasoli",  a  new  and  pretty  steamer.  As  it  was 
raining  we  went  below,  and  the  moment  the  boat  started 
we  both  felt  very  uncomfortable  until  we  reached  Spezzia. 
The  Bay  of  Spezzia  was  lovely  in  the  extreme,  but  a  boat 
with  an  American  flag  on  it  in  the  Bay  was  lovelier.  We 
dined  at  the  "Croce  di  Malta"  and  soon  after  took  the 
train  for  Pisa  which  we  reached  in  two  hours.  We  drove 
to  the  "Vittoria"  and  when  we  got  there  found  that  two 
wretched  beggars  had  run  all  the  way  after  the  carriage 
and  demanded  two  francs  each.  And  they  actually  seemed 
to  have  authority  from  the  police  to  do  so!  That  evening 
the  landlord  sent  us  for  our  inspection  the  register  of  the 
hotel  in  which  each  one  registering  had  said  something  of 
the  house.  Some  of  the  recommendations  were  very  amus- 
ing, and  some  wag  had  annotated  many  of  them  making 
them  very  absurd.  For  example :  ' '  Mr.  Jesse  remained  a 
day  and  night  highly  satisfied,  clean  and  civil.  Note :  '  The 
public  will  probably  be  pleased  to  learn  that  Mr.  Jesse 


58  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1865 
Age  23 

remained  clean  and  civil  as  well  as  highly  satisfied  during 
the  day  and  night  which  he  passed  at  this  hotel'!"  This 
is  only  one  of  many  such  amusing  ones,  and  we  spent  most 
of  the  evening  looking  over  it. 


1866 
Age   24 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  1866-1867 


LETTER 

Florence,  January  2,  1866. 
Dear  Rebecca: 

Here  we  are  settled  in  Florence  in  the  very  house  where 
you  spent  two  months.  We  reached  here  last  night  and 
came  direct  to  32  Lung'Arno  Nuovo.  Adolphe  asked  for 
rooms  and  we  were  soon  in  a  nice  one.  I  then  asked  him 
to  hand  your  note  to  Mrs.  Kelson,  but  he  returned  with 
the  information  that  Madam  Kelson  had  absconded  some 
time  since  and  that  they  would  give  20,000  francs  for  any 
information  concerning  her  whereabouts.  This  was  not 
agreeable  news.  I  found  the  house  is  now  Hotel  Vittoria 
and  whether  we  stay  here  or  not  remains  to  be  seen.  We 
have  just  finished  breakfast  and  are  waiting  for  Adolphe 
to  return  from  the  bankers  (I  hope  with  letters)  when  we 
shall  enquire  about  terms,  accommodations,  etc.,  and  de- 
cide whether  to  stay  here  or  not.  We  have  a  nice  but  small 
room,  evidently  newly  furnished,  looking  into  the  side 
street  with  a  glimpse  of  the  river  and  the  front  street.  I 
wrote  last  to  you  nearly  two  weeks  since  at  Nice.  We  left 
Nice  on  Thursday,  and  came  by  boat  to  Genoa  making  the 
passage  in  about  eight  hours.  The  day  was  perfect,  the 
sea  as  smooth  as  glass  and  we  kept  close  to  shore.  The 
beauty  of  the  scenery  and  the  sunset  it  is  useless  to 
describe.  If  you  came  that  way  you  know  what  it  is.  We 
had  thought  of  going  by  vetturino  but  it  was  so  expensive 
and  took  so  long,  (twenty-four  days)  that  we  came  by 
boat  and  I  am  sure  we  had  no  reason  to  regret  it.  It  seemed 
to  us  it  could  not  be  so  fine  by  carriage  for  one  would  lose 


60  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

the  lovely  outline  of  the  hills  and  mountains.  It  was  the 
most  delightful  day  we  have  spent  since  we  left  home  I 
think.  We  reached  Genoa  that  evening  and  stayed  at  the 
''Cross  of  Malta"  Hotel,  which  we  found  very  comfort- 
able. We  spent  two  days  there  visiting  the  Villa  Pallavicini, 
the  Palazzo  Reale,  Palazzo  Rosso,  Church  of  the  Annunzia- 
ta,  etc.  We  left  there  on  Sunday,  came  by  boat  to  Spezzia, 
and  from  there  by  rail  to  Pisa.  Yesterday  we  visited  the 
Leaning  Tower  where  we  spent  most  of  our  New  Years 
morning.  We  went  to  the  top  which  pretty  much  used 
me  up !  But  I  soon  got  rested  and  enjoyed  the  view  im- 
mensely. We  then  went  to  the  Cathedral  where  High 
Mass  was  being  performed,  by  the  Archbishop,  Bishops, 
Priests,  etc.,  in  full  rig.  We  saw  the  whole  thing  and  it 
was  very  impressive.  The  Archbishop  in  scarlet  velvet 
robes  and  white  ermine  on  a  golden  throne  and  surrounded 
by  Bishops  and  Priests  in  red  and  purple  and  white  robes, 
the  full  notes  of  the  organ,  the  chanting  of  the  priests,  the 
odour  of  the  incense,  the  kneeling  multitude  was  enough  to 
carry  away  one 's  senses,  and  I  felt  an  instinctive  impulse  to 
kneel  too  which  I  had  some  difficulty  to  repress.  I  caught 
myself  making  the  sign  of  the  Cross  involuntarily  when 
every  one  around  me  did  it.  I  suppose  you  saw  the  Ca- 
thedral, and  remember  how  grand  it  is.  Such  wonderful 
frescoes,  and  marble  and  lapis  lazuli.  The  paintings  were 
fine.  We  went  to  the  Baptistery  which  after  a  great  strug- 
gle I  gave  up  examining.  I  wanted  all  my  strength  for 
the  Campo  Santo  which  was  the  ultimatum  of  all  my  de- 
sires. Reading  Mrs.  Jameson 's  Memoirs  of  the  early  paint- 
ers had  made  me  crazy  to  see  the  Campo  Santo,  and  I  was 
not  disappointed.  We  spent  two  hours  there  and  I  left 
with  the  greatest  reluctance.  We  went  back  to  our  hotel, 
and  had  lunch,  ordering  the  first  bottle  of  wine  I  have 
bought,  to  celebrate  the  day.  We  had  St.  Peray  and  most 
delicious  it  was.  We  drank  to  your  health  and  those  at 
home,  to  the  President,  and  the  country,  and  lastly  to  Dr. 
Parsons  who  has  sung  the  glories  of  St.  Peray.    We  left 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  61 

1866 
Age  24 

Pisa  at  three  and  reached  here  at  six  and  a  half  and  came 
at  once  to  this  hotel.  Adolphe  has  just  come  in  with  seven 
letters  for  Miss  Whitmarsh  and  not  one  for  me.  It  is  two 
weeks  since  I  had  a  letter.  Today  we  are  resting  and 
writing  letters,  tomorrow  we  shall  begin  sight-seeing  on  a 
moderate  scale.  We  have  had  no  sight-seeing  for  so  long 
it  seems  pleasant  to  get  into  a  place  where  there  are 
churches  and  pictures  again.  The  doctor  in  Nice  strongly 
advised  our  hastening  on  to  Rome  as  Florence,  he  said,  was 
the  Siberia  of  Italy.  If  it  is  very  cold  we  shall  only  stop 
a  week  here  and  return  in  the  spring  to  see  more  of  it. 
Should  the  weather  be  moderate  we  shall  remain  longer.  I 
long  to  get  to  Rome  and  get  settled,  yet  desire  to  stay  here. 
We  have  concluded  to  remain  at  this  house  as  we  like  it. 
I  hope  tomorrow  will  bring  letters.  It  makes  me  so  blue 
not  to  hear  from  home.  Give  my  love  to  all  at  Aunt  Anna 's 
and  Mr.  Bond's.  I  hope  Mrs.  Bond  is  better.  My  love  to 
George  and  the  children.  I  have  just  seen  Galignani  but 
there  is  little  American  news.  I  hope  gold  will  go  down 
somewhat  before  I  want  some  more.  We  are  getting  on 
most  smoothly,  my  expenses  are  not  as  great  as  I  had  ex- 
pected. Adolphe  takes  all  care  off  us,  we  have  only  to  enjoy 
ourselves.    With  very  much  love. 

Yours, 

Emma. 


JOURNAL 

Florence,  January  3. 

We  went  to  Goodbans  this  morning  where  Miss  W. 
bought  a  Fra  Angelico.  We  went  to  the  Uffizi  and  spent 
some  time  in  the  Tribune  and  other  rooms  again.  "The 
Visitation ' '  by  Albertinelli  was  to  me  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful pictures  I  have  seen;  such  exquisite  simplicity,  deli- 
cacy and  modesty.  It  certainly  well  expresses  the  subject 
and  I  do  not  wonder  that  every  other  picture  representing 
the  same  incident  pales  before  this  one. 


62  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 

Age  24 

January  5. 
We  had  a  most  beautiful  drive  in  the  Cascine  and  saw 
Victor  Emanuel;  we  passed  him  three  or  four  times;  he 
is  a  very  ugly  man  but  with  deep  purpose,  honesty  and 
sense  in  his  face.  He  drove  in  a  very  plain  open  barouche, 
had  on  a  heavy  grey  overcoat  and  looked  like  any  one 
else.  No  one  took  off  their  hats  to  him  which  seemed  to  me 
odd.  His  coachman  and  tiger  were  in  plain  liveries.  These 
little  tigers  are  such  queer  little  specimens;  some  of  them 
are  in  top  boots. 

Saturday,  January  6. 
We  drove  to  the  Duomo  where  a  service  was  going  on; 
we  could  not  go  about  much.  It  impresses  me  almost  more 
than  any  Cathedral  yet  has.  We  later  drove  across  the 
Arno  to  Powers'  studio;  words  cannot  express  my  delight 
of  the  sculptor  and  his  works.  He  received  us  in  his  work- 
ing dress ;  great  apron  and  mason 's  cap  and  chisel  in  hand. 
He  has  such  a  charming  face;  grey  hair,  deep  dark  brown 
piercing  eyes,  with  such  a  kind,  gentle  genial  light  in  them. 
A  beautiful  mouth  and  a  manner  so  easy,  so  unaffected 
and  simple.  He  went  about  with  us  showing  us  all  his 
works.  His  "Greek  Slave",  "America"  the  most  glorious 
"Eve  Disconsolate",  the  grand  "California",  "Ginevra", 
' '  Clytie ' '  statues  of  Webster  and  Everett.  ' '  America ' '  has 
one  hand  pointing  up,  the  other  resting  on  the  Union  (a 
bundle  of  sticks  bound  together).  Her  drapery  sweeping 
grandly  about  her,  her  foot  rests  firmly  on  the  broken 
chains,  a  star  is  on  her  forehead.  "California"  in  one 
hand  grasps  a  divining  rod  and  looks  down,  in  the  other 
hand  she  holds  a  bunch  of  thorns  which  she  hides  behind 
her,  a  great  rock  of  quartz  is  also  behind  her.  Her  tropic 
beauty,  the  rod  pointing  down,  are  emblematic  of  the  riches 
and  attractions  of  the  fair  land  she  represents.  The  other 
hand  holds  the  thorns,  emblematic  of  the  trials,  difficul- 
ties and  dangers  to  be  met  with  in  conquering  them,  but 
this  she  hides  from  the  sight  of  those  whom  she  allures  by 
her  fair  promises.  The  "Eve  Disconsolate"  presses  one 
hand  to  her  bosom  as  she  accuses  herself  and  acknowledges 
her  sin.  The  serpent  is  gliding  away  because  when  sin  is 
confessed,  temptation  departs.  Her  pure  sad  face  is  yet 
repentant.  "Ginevra"  is  a  lovely  bust  with  exquisite 
drapery.  ' '  Clytie ' '  he  was  at  work  on ;  she  was  still  in  the 
clay,   her  head  is  crowned  with  sunflowers  showing  the 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  63 

1866 

Age  24 

metamorphosis  has  begun.  A  bust  of  his  wife  and  one  of 
his  daughter  are  very  fine.  We  saw  two  or  three  models  of 
his  daughter's  hand  taken  as  a  baby;  they  were  the  love- 
liest little  things  I  ever  saw.  We  wandered  as  through 
dreamland  for  an  hour  and  it  gave  one  a  thrill  to  look  up 
from  the  beautiful  works  into  the  gentle  face  of  the  sculp- 
tor. I  should  have  liked  to  kiss  the  hand  which  had  created 
such  marvelous  beauty.  We  left  very  reluctantly  and  went 
to  the  studio  of  Leopoldo  Gallo,  passing  on  the  way  ''Casa 
Guidi  Windows",  Mrs.  Browning's  house.  We  gave  or- 
ders to  the  artist  and  then  drove  home  to  lunch. 

Rome,  Friday,  January  19. 
Doctor  Valery  came  and  examined  my  lungs  and  I  al- 
most wish  he  had  not.  Where  ignorance  is  bliss  it 's  no  use 
to  be  wise.  The  state  of  doubt  in  which  I  have  been  is  cer- 
tainly pleasanter  than  my  present  state  of  knowledge. 
Well,  I  might  have  been  prepared  for  it,  I  think  I  was. 
Dr.  Valery  says  I  will  never  be  well  but  may  be  compara- 
tively strong;  my  lungs  are  diseased  on  both  sides  though 
the  centre  is  sound.  He  thinks  I  may  get  rid  of  this 
catarrh  and  get  very  much  better  and  if  I  keep  on  gaining 
for  two  or  three  years  I  may  become  comparatively  strong, 
never  really  healthy  and  well,  but  I  shall  not  keep  on  gain- 
ing; I  know  how  it  will  be,  when  I  go  home  I  shall  go  back 
again  where  I  was  and  I  suppose  I  shall  die.  If  only  Moth- 
er and  Father  or  A.  were  here  to  take  all  care  from  me  I 
would  make  a  desperate  effort  to  get  well,  but  it  is  so  lonely 
and  desolate  to  be  away  from  them  all.  Alone  and  with 
so  much  to  worry  and  trouble  me.  Miss  W.  is  very,  very 
kind  but  I  want  Mother.  Miss  W.  says  Dr.  Bray  told  her 
he  thought  tubercles  were  forming  on  my  lungs  when  I 
was  on  board  ship  and  said  he  thought  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  get  me  to  Rome  without  a  serious  hemorrhage  or  an 
attack  of  fever  which  might  be  long  and  dangerous.  .  .  . 
Six  months  or  a  year  ago  had  I  come  abroad  there  might 
have  been  more  hope;  I  don't  feel  now  as  though  I  had 
energy  enough  to  make  a  real  struggle  and  effort  to  get 
well.  No  more  of  this.  We  this  afternoon  took  a  carriage 
and  went  to  St.  Peter's.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  im- 
pression of  it,  so  many  people  are  disappointed  in  their 
first  view  and  I  feared  it  might  be  so  with  me,  but  no  in- 
deed; my  highest  anticipations  were  realized.  I  almost 
cried  with  delight  to  find  them  so  entirely  fulfilled. 


64  JOURNAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 
Age  24 

And  of  the  Coliseum  what  can  I  say?  It  was  only  a 
beautiful  glimpse  we  had  of  it  today,  like  a  dream.  It's 
arches  upon  arches,  it's  beautiful  broken  outline,  it's  pil- 
lars and  crumbling  stairs,  the  blue  sky  and  bright  sunlight 
seen  through  the  broken  openings, — oh  it  was  glorious, — 
and  near  by  the  glorious  arch  of  Constantine.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  ferns  and  moss  and  ivy  and  then  those 
splendid,  dangerous  staircases;  I  longed  to  be  a  cat  to 
scramble  all  over  them,  and  I  mean  to  have  a  good  prowl 
over  it  before  I  go  away. 

Wednesday,  January  24. 
I  stood  five  times  for  my  picture  at  Alessandri's  today 
and  hope  the  result  may  be  good.  We  drove  with  the 
Parkers  in  the  afternoon  to  San  Lorenzo  and  beyond  on  the 
road  to  Tivoli.  It  was  such  exquisite  delight  to  me  to  get 
into  the  country.  I  never  saw  such  exquisitely  beautiful 
mountains  in  my  life ;  they  were  so  soft  and  velvet-like  and 
of  a  lovely  violet  grey  colour.  Fleecy  white  clouds  float- 
ing about  them.  A  snow  peak  here  and  there,  Tivoli 
nestling  at  the  base  and  Frascati  on  a  nearer  shoulder.  I 
was  so  entranced,  my  enjoyment  was  so  intense  that  it  was 
almost  painful.  I  felt  wrought  up  and  every  nerve 
stretched  and  strained  to  drink  in  all  the  influences  of  the 
place  and  of  the  beauty  before  me.  Fearful  to  lose  the 
least  particle  of  it  that  the  impression  might  not  be  last- 
ing. The  other  members  of  the  party  laughed  and  joked 
and  hardly  looked  at  the  view ;  it  seemed  to  me  I  could  not 
have  looked  away  for  one  moment  for  worlds.  I  do  not 
know  what  else  we  passed;  I  only  saw  the  glory  of  those 
hills. 


LETTER 


Rome,  January,  1866. 
As  I  presume  they  will  send  my  letters  from  home,  you 
will  have  read  all  my  stupid  descriptions,  they  seem  to  me 
to  read  like  a  guide-book.  Words  are  so  utterly  inadequate 
to  describe  the  grand  things  one  sees.  We  have  had  a  num- 
ber of  calls :  Miss  Cushman,  Mrs.  Gould,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Val- 
ery.  Gen.  Rufus  King,  our  minister  here,  the  secretary  of 
legation,  Mr.  Hooker,  Count  and  Countess  du  Chastel  (who 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  65 

1866 
Age  24 

by  the  way  have  been  kindness  itself  to  us).  They  are  like 
all  the  Dutch,  warm  hearted,  genial,  kindly,  informal  per- 
sons. The  Countess  treats  me  as  though  I  were  a  cousin 
and  calls  me  so.  There  is  an  open-hearted  kindliness  about 
the  Dutch  that  no  other  people  have.  The  American  Chap- 
lain here,  Dr.  Lyman,  used  to  live  in  Pittsburgh,  and  has 
preached  often  in  Meadville.  He  and  his  wife  are  pleas- 
ing people.  We  were  invited  the  other  night  to  take  tea 
socially  at  eight  o'clock  with  Mrs.  Gould,  and  went  there 
but  made  a  mistake  in  the  rooms  and  got  into  an  English 
nobleman's  party  on  the  second  floor,  instead  of  to  Mrs. 
Gould 's  quiet  company  on  the  third  floor.  We  never  found 
out  our  mistake  till  two  days  afterwards.  However  when 
we  got  to  the  party,  our  plain  dresses  were  so  out  of  place 
among  the  satins  and  diamonds,  and  we  were  so  angry  with 
Mrs.  Gould  (whom  we  could  not  find  when  we  entered  the 
room)  for,  as  we  supposed  telling  us  a  fib,  and  saying  it 
was  a  social  company  when  it  was  a  huge  party  that  we 
only  stayed  ten  minutes.  So  we  have  eaten  noble  ice 
cream,  as  Miss  W.  says,  and  stared  at  noble  dresses,  and 
had  a  good  laugh  over  our  blunder.  A  gentleman  made 
the  same  mistake,  and  finding  it  out  went  up  another  flight, 
to  Mrs.  Gould's,  and  had  a  quiet  pleasant  evening.  I  can 
imagine  how  George  will  laugh  over  our  blunder.  Indeed 
we  thought  it  an  excellent  joke. 

Oh !  the  beggars,  you  know  what  they  are.  I  get  so 
sick  of  them.  They  are  such  horrid,  nasty  creatures.  I 
began  by  giving  them  some  money,  but  I've  got  tired  of 
that  and  now  I  frown  and  say  ''No,  no,  no-o-o-o"  most 
emphatically.  Just  as  sure  as  you  enter  a  grand  church 
your  first  impression  is  spoiled  by  some  creature  without 
an  eye  or  an  arm,  making  a  dive  at  you.  Miss  W.  is  slight- 
ly insane  on  the  subject  of  pictures,  and  gets  such  a  num- 
ber. A  man  has  just  brought  in  two  which  she  got  yester- 
day of  C. — two  angels,  copies  of  Francesco  Francia.  I,  as 
yet,  have  only  got  three  little  ones  which  I  bought  in  Flor- 
ence.    We  went  the  other  day  to  Knebel's  studio.     Oh! 


66  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 
Age   24 

there  were  such  lovely  landscapes.  As  much  more  beauti- 
ful than  Salvator  Rosa  or  Claude  Lorraine  as  can  be. 
Some  of  the  Italian  views  were  perfectly  entrancing,  espe- 
cially one  of  the  Alban  Hills,  the  Appenines,  and  Tivoli 
in  the  distance,  the  Campagna  and  ruins  in  the  foreground. 
I  want  Father  to  get  it  so  very  much.  I  wrote  him  about 
it.  It  is  as  large  as  our  picture  of  the  deer  at  home  and 
only  $250.  There  was  a  little  one  of  the  same  subject  that 
was  just  as  perfect  for  $95.  I  saw  a  lovely  landscape  the 
other  day  in  a  shop  window  and  asked  the  price.  "$20", 
the  man  said,  whereupon  I  shook  my  head.  ''Well, 
Mademoiselle  what  will  you  give"?  I  considered  and  said 
$12.  "Say  $15"  the  man  said,  but  I  stuck  to  my  $12  and 
he  said  he  thought  I  might  have  it.  But  I  concluded  not 
to  take  it,  at  least  not  then.  Your  description  of  Christmas 
and  New  Year  made  me  quite  homesick.  It  was  so  woe- 
fully dismal  to  spend  them  alone  that  I  was  glad  when 
they  were  over.  One  more  anniversary,  my  birthday,  is 
yet  to  come  and  I  shall  be  glad  when  that  is  passed.  These 
anniversaries  are  homesick,  painful  things  when  one  is 
away.  I  can't  quite  think  of  waking  up  next  Wednesday 
morning,  and  not  having  Mother  to  come  to  my  bed  and 
give  me  a  birthday  kiss,  and  no  dear  ones  to  give  me  theirs 
when  I  come  down  stairs,  without  the  tears  coming  to  my 
eyes.  And  I  shall  miss  the  birthday  letter  which  came  so 
unfailingly  from  my  good  kind  sister.  I  shall  take  this 
last  one  for  a  birthday  letter.  Indeed  I  did  remember  our 
last  New  Year 's  eve  in  Chauncey  Street.  Then  Arthur  was 
the  one  far  away  and  we  drank  his  health.  I  did  not  think 
then  that  I  should  be  the  absent  one  this  year.  I  can  as- 
sure you  we  drank  the  healths  of  all  at  home  most  raptur- 
ously on  New  Year's  day  at  Pisa.     .     .     . 


JOURNAL 


Wednesday,  January  31. 
.     .     .     .     Coming  in  late  this  afternoon  we  found  a 
note  from  Miss  Cushman,  asking  us  to  call  and  see  her  at 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  67 

1866 

Age  24 

eight  o'clock,  so  we  went  and  we  fomid  Miss  Cushman 
alone  with  a  Mrs.  Heywood,  of  Boston.  The  house  is  very 
fine,  beautiful  paintings,  fine  carved  furniture  and  a  dear 
little  dog  who  drank  part  of  my  tea.  Miss  Cushman  her- 
self is  charming,  very  genial  and  entertaining,  speaking 
of  Liszt  she  said  "He  is  always  acting;  he  is  one  of  the 
greatest  living  actors  off  the  stage;  had  he  been  a  singer 
he  would  have  been  a  good  and  great  artist.  But  as  a 
composer  merely  he  has  no  scope  for  this  great  power  of 
acting  which  has  such  control  over  him".  Speaking  of  his 
face  she  said,  ''It  is  sinister,  the  mouth  when  he  smiles 
curves  up  like  a  half  moon  and  he  looks  like  a  devil.  When 
he  sits  down  to  the  piano  his  face  instantly  becomes  divine ; 
he  is  always  acting,  he  gives  pennies  to  every  child  in  the 
street,  till  he  has  a  crowd  about  him;  then  he  stops  and 
acts  to  them  a  while  before  going  on  his  way.  He  likes  to 
attract  attention  all  the  time.  The  first  time  I  saw  him  he 
was  going  down  the  Spanish  Steps  his  head  turned  up  to 
the  sky,  his  chin  sticking  out  and  in  his  hand  held  straight 
out  rigidly  before  him  he  held  a  rose". 

Miss  Cushman  was  perfectly  natural,  had  an  intense- 
ness  which  fascinated  me  and  her  eyes  when  she  fixes  them 
upon  you  as  is  her  wont,  thrill  you  all  over.  I  did  not 
talk  much  but  sat  and  listened  to  her  with  delight. 

Friday,  February  2,  Candlemas  Day. 
We  were  up  at  half  past  seven  and  went  to  St.  Peter's 
at  half  past  eight ;  we  had  excellent  seats.  At  ten  the 
procession  entered ;  the  Pope  in  crimson  robes  embroidered 
in  gold  was  borne  on  a  chair  and  the  procession  moved  up 
the  nave  between  files  of  guards.  The  cardinals,  priests, 
bishops,  officers  and  ambassadors  followed.  The  Palatine 
Guard  wore  the  costume  of  the  time  of  Henry  VIII,  red, 
yellow  and  black  stripes ;  the  Noble  Guard  wore  white  cloth 
breeches  and  black  velvet  coats  covered  with  gold  and  sil- 
ver lace.  Many  Englishmen  wore  black  velvet  suits  with 
gold  trimmings.  The  ambassadors  were  superb,  the  Count 
du  Chastel  was  among  them,  a  light  blue  ribbon  across  his 
breast  with  magnificent  orders  upon  it.  It  is  useless  to  try 
to  describe  the  grandeur  of  the  ceremony.  The  Pope 
blessed  the  candles,  the  people  knelt  to  receive  them  from 
his  hands,  then  they  were  all  lighted  and  Pius  IX  was 
raised  on  his  ' '  Sedia  Gestatoria ' '  and  all  the  bishops,  cardi- 
nals and  ambassadors  again  formed  a  procession  and  moved 


68  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

around  the  church.  Celebration  of  mass  followed  after 
which  we  left.  On  the  way  home  we  passed  all  the  State 
coaches  of  the  grandees. 


LETTERS 

Rome,  February  5,  1866. 
My  Dear  Rebecca : 

I  was  rejoiced  today  to  receive  your  letter  of  the  11th, 
also  one  from  Father  and  from  Mary,  I  am  worried  to 
hear  in  every  letter  of  your  having  headache,  I  am  afraid 
you  are  not  well.  Now  why  not  persuade  Father  and 
Mother  to  come  over  next  April  and  you  come  with  them 
and  bring  the  children  or  at  least  Alfred.  You  need  the 
change  I  am  sure  and  then  a  few  months  will  quite  set 
you  up  again.  Indeed  unless  some  of  you  come  over  I  don 't 
see  how  I  can  stay  till  August.  The  Dr.  says  decidedly 
that  as  far  as  he  can  see  I  must  go  again  next  winter  to 
a  warmer  climate.  And  if  I  come  home  in  August,  I  shall 
have  but  two  months  at  home  before  I  must  go  again — 
either  south  or  to  Cuba  or  somewhere  for  the  whole  win- 
ter. It  kills  me  nearly  to  think  of  it.  I  am,  however, 
getting  on  finely.  •  I  get  stronger  and  more  fleshy  every 
day.  Only  my  throat  is  no  better  and  my  chest  is  no 
stronger  judging  from  certain  experiences.  The  Dr.  says 
I  am  doing  well,  but  somehow  I  feel  as  though  he  did  not 
tell  me  all.  When  I  am  out  and  come  in  I  find  him  and 
Miss  W.  talking  about  me  and  looking  as  grave  as  can  be, 
it  is  by  no  means  assuring.  Perhaps  it 's  imagination  after 
all.  Miss  W.  has  taken  a  bad  cold  in  her  head  and  yes- 
terday was  quite  sick  with  it.  Today  she  is  better.  I  have 
taken  no  cold  since  I  came  here.  As  to  Nice  where  every- 
one thinks  I  ought  to  have  stayed  longer  I  do  not  think 
the  climate  as  good  as  Rome.  In  the  first  place  it  is  a  dull 
place ;  the  air,  and  sunlight  are  perfect,  but  there  is  nothing 
else,  no  society,  no  amusements  and  only  two  drives.  I  got 
woefully  weary  there.    I  have  been  restless  in  every  place 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  69 

1866 
Age  24 

I  have  yet  been  in  except  Amsterdam  and  Eome.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  a  part  of  my  disease,  the  Dr.  says  so.  I  got  tired 
of  Nice  and  would  have  been  utterly  wretched  had  I  stayed 
there.  Rome  I  delight  in,  and  I  am  content  here.  As  to 
the  churches  I  have  learned  that  hardest  of  all  lessons,  to 
give  up  pleasure  for  health.  Indeed  I  don't  believe  you 
would  know  your  once  reckless  sister.  Now  I  assure  you  I 
have  not  entered  a  church  or  gallery  for  two  weeks;  save 
St.  Peter's  which  is  always  warm.  I  have  given  up  the 
Vatican  and  Sistine  Chapel  until  April.  It's  awfully 
hard  but  I  am  going  to  stick  to  it.  For  a  week  I 
have  done  nothing  but  drive  about  in  the  sun,  on  the  Cam- 
pagna,  on  the  Pincio,  anywhere  where  it  is  warm  and 
sunny.  My  greatest  deprivation  is  not  being  allowed  to 
walk.  The  Dr.  says  it  is  not  at  all  good  for  me,  that  no 
exercise  is  good  for  me,  and  I  hate  this  eternal  driving 
about.  Once  in  a  while  I  rush  out  desperately  and  have  a 
good  walk  regardless  of  consequences.  Some  days  we  just 
do  nothing  but  lounge  about  the  streets  looking  into  the 
shop  windows. 

This  morning  we  spent  in  that  way  and  I  found  some 
very  pretty  little  paintings.  Italian  views,  Italian  figures 
and  all  sorts  of  things.  One  lovely  picture  for  $15 — I 
mean  to  get  it.  If  you  want  any  let  me  know,  I  can  get 
pretty  ones  such  as  at  home  we  would  think  gems,  for 
from  four  to  twenty  dollars.  The  climate  of  Rome  is  as 
mild  as  that  of  Nice.  The  streets  to  be  sure  are  damp 
and  cold,  but  we  only  go  in  the  wider  streets  and  squares. 
We  are  at  the  Hotel  de  Rome  in  the  Corso,  near  the  Piazza 
di  Spagna,  and  there  it  is  always  warm  and  sunny.  Then 
we  drive  most  of  the  time.  This  week  is  the  Carnival.  Now 
only  think,  it  has  been  going  on  for  two  days  and  I  have 
not  seen  a  thing  of  it.  It  only  begins  about  three  and  I 
am  in  before  that  usually.  Tomorrow  I  mean  to  see  some- 
thing of  it.  Miss  W.  went  out  on  Saturday  with  the 
Crockers  and  took  an  awful  cold  and  said  it  was  tire- 
some.    I  think  it  must  be  stupid,  it  seems  so  ridiculous. 


70  JOUKNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

About  silks,  I  can  get  you  in  Paris  a  lovely  moire-antique 
for  $2.50  a  yard.  I  saw  one,  an  ashes  of  roses  as  glossy  as 
satin  and  very  stiff  for  that  price.  A  good  silk  like  Moth- 
er's is  about  $25  the  pattern.  A  velvet  is  about  $50  the 
pattern.  A  good  one  can  be  had  for  three  dollars  a  yard. 
I  do  wish  I  had  a  chance  to  send  you  a  silk  now  when  I 
could  get  one  for  so  much  less  than  you  would  at  home.  Do 
send  to  me  for  whatever  you  want.  I  have  nothing  to  get 
for  myself  and  would  so  enjoy  shopping  for  others.  In 
Rome  everything  is  very  high  except  pictures  and  cameos. 
In  Paris  I  can  get  things  for  a  quarter  what  they  are  at 
home,  and  the  same  in  Florence,  Brussels  and  all  northern 
cities.  By  the  way  my  black  silk  is  not  wearing  well,  it  has 
given  way  all  over.  I  have  matched  my  green  silk  perfect- 
ly and  intend  to  have  a  high-necked  waist  made  to  it,  so 
it  will  make  a  lovely  spring  dress.  My  birthday  was  rather 
a  woeful  day.  I  was  awfully  blue  and  homesick.  My  good 
kind  friend,  the  Countess,  came  in  to  see  me  and  gave  me 
three  birthday  kisses,  a  lovely  bunch  of  flowers  and  a  huge 
book  containing  exquisite  outline  engravings  of  all  the 
paintings  in  the  Vatican.  She  said  so  sweetly,  "As  you 
cannot  go  to  the  Vatican,  dear  child,  I  have  tried  to  bring 
the  Vatican  to  you."  She  came  in  to  see  me  on  Monday 
last  and  heard  me  speak  of  my  birthday,  and  in  the  kind- 
ness of  her  heart,  she  remembered  me  in  this  way.  Nothing 
ever  touched  me  more.  She  came  to  see  me  again  on  Satur- 
day and  said:  "You  must  let  me  do  all  I  can  for  you  for 
you  know  I  am  your  Roman  Mother".  She  takes  as  kind 
an  interest  in  me  as  though  I  were  a  relation.  She  is  just 
like  all  the  Dutch,  genial,  warm-hearted,  unaffected.  We 
went  to  the  Candlemas  service  at  St.  Peter's  on  Friday,  but 
of  this  I  shall  write  to  George,  Don't  I  wish  I  could  have 
been  at  your  dance,  only  the  Dr.  won't  let  me  dance.  I  do 
so  long  sometimes  for  a  little  more  society.  We  have 
oceans  of  friends  in  this  hotel,  about  twenty  or  thirty.  They 
are  always  coming  to  see  us.  Our  room  is  quite  a  rendez- 
vous.    They  come  by  shoals  and  sometimes  we  wish  they 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  71 

1866 
Age  24 

were  not  so  fond  of  us,  for  they  keep  us  from  our  reading 
and  writing.  I  must  write  to  Cousin  Pieter  van  E.,  so 
must  close.  Will  write  George  tomorrow.  Love  to  all  at 
Aunt  Anna's  and  the  Bonds,  Love  to  Lou  if  she  is  with 
you  and  to  George  and  Arthur.  My  regards  to  Mr.  Lan- 
eey.     Kisses  for  the  children  and  much  love  for  yourself. 

Yours, 

Emma. 

Rome,  February  7,  18GG. 
My  Dear  Brother: 

I  thought  last  night  I  surely  would  get  this  letter  ready 
to  go  by  today's  mail,  but  people  kept  coming  in  one  after 
the  other  and  then  I  had  to  write  to  Cousin  Pieter  so  it  was 
bed  time  before  I  was  ready  to  begin.  .  .  .  Well! 
would  you  believe  that  I  have  been  four  weeks  in  Rome 
and  have  seen  neither  the  Vatican  nor  the  Sistine  Chapel. 
You  cannot  form  an  idea  of  how  wonderfully  prudent  I 
have  become,  and  how  exceedingly  obedient  I  am.  I  have 
not  been  inside  a  church  for  two  weeks  save  St.  Peter's 
which  you  know  is  always  warm,  and  the  Carnival,  which 
began  last  Saturday,  I  have  seen  as  little  of  as  though  it 
were  not.  I  mean  tomorrow  to  have  a  look  at  it  just  to  be 
able  to  say  I  have  seen  it,  but  I  knoAV  it  is  very  stupid. 
It  has  not  been  at  all  gay  this  year,  the  Romans  having 
taken  very  little  part  in  it.  They  say  there  is  a  large 
party  that  favours  Victor  Emanuel,  and  that  they  have 
secretly  been  in  mourning  for  the  young  prince,  his  son 
who  died  a  fortnight  ago.  So  this  party  has  taken  no 
part  in  the  Carnival.  .  .  .  Our  friend,  the  Countess 
du  Chastel,  is  coming  this  evening  to  show  us  her  costume 
(a  Dutch  one)  which  she  wears  tonight  at  a  fancy  ball  at 
Prince  Borghese's.  You  do  not  know  what  a  good  kind 
friend  she  is  to  us,  .  .  .  You  ask  what  tribe  I  prefer 
here.  Well!  I  do  not  find  any  people  better  than  the 
Dutch.  They  are  the  most  refined,  intelligent  and  genial 
people  we  have  found.     The  English  are  uppish  and  stiff; 


72  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 
Age  24 

the  French  are  noisy;  the  Americans  too  often  shoddy.  I 
am  much  disappointed  in  the  Americans  we  meet  here. 
Most  of  them  are  real  Petroleum!  They  overdress,  and 
murder  the  King 's  English  and  say  Eaphael  's  Transfigura- 
tion is  "pretty"  and  St.  Peter's  ''nice".  One  or  two  nice 
ones  we  have  met,  but  as  a  general  thing  we  find  them  not 
congenial.  By  the  way  I  met  Caspar  Crowninshield  this 
morning  at  the  banker's  and  Mr.  Blanchard  is  here. 
.  .  .  Is  not  this  Rome  a  great  place?  I  do  so  enjoy  the 
ruins,  they  are  a  never-ending  source  of  pleasure  to  me 
and  we  go  driving  all  over  the  Campagna,  to  see  this  one 
and  that  one,  and  then  go  again  to  get  a  view  from  the 
other  side,  etc.  The  Dr.  has  prohibited  churches,  the  Vati- 
can, and  galleries  and  all  the  palazzi,  but  the  Doria  and 
Borghese.  There  is  plenty  left  though  to  interest  me  till 
the  warmer  weather.  The  weather  is  now  like  our  May, 
the  roses  in  bloom  and  trees  budding  and  peas  in  blos- 
som. The  Countess  has  just  been  in  and  looks  a  beauty 
in  her  dress  of  green  satin  and  silver  lace  and  magnificent 
diamonds  and  ermine.  The  Count  looked  stunning  in  his 
Court  dress  and  jeweled  orders.  .  .  .  Love  to  all  your 
family. 

Yours  ever  affectionately, 

Emma, 

The  Pomeroys,  of  Pittsfield,  are  here  and  I  saw  W. 
B.'s  familiar  face  in  the  book  of  a  Miss  Larned,  of  Pitts- 
field.  She  is  just  engaged  to  a  Mr.  Kernochan,  of  New 
York. 

Rome,  February  19,  1866. 
My  Dearest  R. : 

I  received  your  kind  letter  today  and  have  been  par- 
ticularly favoured  through  the  week.  It  is  so  jolly  to  get 
letters  and  they  come  so  regularly  now.  Two  came  this 
morning  written  on  my  birthday.  I  am  feeling  specially 
well  today.     The  Dr.  thinks  I  am  doing  wonderfully,  and 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  73 

1866 
Age  24 

I  think  so  myself.  There  is  an  old  gentleman  who  can't 
seem  to  get  over  it,  and  keeps  continually  saying,  "Well, 
I  never  should  think  you  were  the  same  person  that  was 
on  the  steamer".  And  many  others  often  speak  of  my 
marked  improvement.  .  .  .  We  are  having  a  pleasant 
time,  still  driving  about,  sight-seeing  and  visiting.  Last 
Monday  and  Tuesday  we  devoted  to  the  Carnival  which  I 
think  unmitigatedly  stupid.  I  was  woefully  weary  of  it 
before  I  had  looked  on  an  hour.  Wednesday  we  went  to 
the  Barberini  Gallery  to  see  the  Cenci.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
I  was  a  bit  disappointed.  She  does  not  look  sad  enough. 
I  have  seen  many  copies  in  which  the  expression  pleased 
me  better.  I  was  disappointed  at  being  disappointed.  I 
did  so  want  it  to  satisfy  me.  I  sat  an  hour  looking  at  it 
in  every  possible  light  and  it  was  no  good.  The  light, 
however,  was  very  poor  and  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  I  cling  to  the  hope  that  when  I  go  again  to  see  it  I 
shall  be  better  satisfied.  Thursday  we  went  to  Mr.  Free- 
man's studio,  an  American  artist.  He  has  a  very  few 
good  pictures.  Then  we  went  to  the  studio  of  Mr.  Chap- 
man and  called  on  Mrs.  Chapman.  She  is  quite  pleasant 
but  they  are  awful  Seccessionists.  She  is  a  great  friend 
of  Miss  Sarah  Clarke  and  Uncle  James.  .  .  .  Friday 
I  went  to  a  little  party  at  Dr.  Gould 's  and  met  some  pleas- 
ant people.  .  .  .  Miss  W,  and  her  French  teacher  are 
chattering  so  that  they  confuse  me  woefully.  We  went 
today  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla.  Yesterday  we  went  to 
see  our  friend,  Countess  du  C.  She  is  as  lovely  and  kind 
as  can  be.  We  took  a  long,  long  drive  too,  it  was  so  sweet 
and  warm.  The  violets  and  daisies  as  thick  as  could  be 
on  the  roadside.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  the  roses,  camelias, 
violets  and  mignonette  which  are  on  my  table.  It  is  time 
for  the  mail  and  I  have  not  half  written  what  I  want.  I 
have  had  to  write  like  lightning  to  get  through.     .     .     . 

Yours  ever, 

Emma. 


74  JOtJENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

JOURNAL 

Thursday,  February  22,  1866. 
Went  at  twelve  to  the  breakfast  in  honour  of  Wash- 
ington's birthday.  There  were  toasts  to  the  memory  of 
Washington,  then  to  the  President,  the  Pope,  the  Army 
and  Navy,  and  the  Union.  General  Bartlett  made  a  splen- 
did speech  and  was  followed  by  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  who 
made  a  much  praised  one.  Then  Rev.  Charles  Brooks  read 
a  poem.  After  that  a  toast  was  proposed,  "The  Brooks 
of  America,  may  they  run  on  forever". 

Rome,  Monday,  February  26,  1866. 
We  painted  all  morning  and  I  got  on  well  with  my 
picture.  At  2  we  went  to  Mr.  Strutt  's  studio ;  I  do  not  care 
for  his  pictures  as  much  as  for  some  others.  They  are  cold 
and  flat ;  they  want  the  light  and  warmth  and  atmosphere 
of  Knebel.  Next  we  went  to  Gibson's  studio,  to  Miss  Hos- 
mer's  also  and  I  admired  her  "Puck"  the  perfection  of 
mischief,  life,  fun  and  spirit.  Her  "Zenobia"  is  of  course 
grand;  also  the  "Cenci".  There  was  also  a  design  for  a 
fountain  which  some  workmen  were  about  putting  up  in  a 
courtyard.  We  proceeded  to  Roger's  where  we  saw  the 
fine  doors  for  the  Capitol  at  Washington;  a  huge  figure 
of  a  soldier  for  a  monument  at  Cincinnati,  and  the  lovely 
"Nydia",  the  blind  girl  of  Pompeii.  The  lines  of  her 
brow,  the  perfect  sightlessness  of  the  eyes,  the  intense  ef- 
fort to  see  in  the  face  was  dreadful  yet  perfect.  Next  we 
went  to  Mosier's. 

Tuesday,  February  27. 
We  went  this  evening  to  see  the  Coliseum  by  moon- 
light; at  first  it  did  not  impress  me,  though  I  enjoyed  it 
but  not  as  I  had  hoped.  We  went  to  the  very  top,  the 
moon  was  too  high  to  make  fine  shadows.  Coming  home 
we  stopped  at  the  fountain  of  Trevi  and  we  both  drank 
long  draughts  from  it  in  the  hope  that  we  might  soon  re- 
turn to  Rome.    We  used  our  hands  for  cups. 

Saturday,  March  3. 
We  went  this  evening  to  a  little  musical  party  at  Ma- 
dame Valery's.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Weeks  were  there,  and  the 
Reeds.     The  music  was  good  of  its  style.     I  saw  Mr.  Odo 
Russell,  and  Tadolini  j^layed  and  sang. 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  75 

1866 
Age  24 

LETTERS 

Rome,  March  4,  1866. 
Dear  Rebecca: 

I  was  under  the  impression  that  it  was  only  a  week 
since  I  wrote  you,  but  find  on  referring  to  my  journal,  to 
my  amazement,  that  it  is  a  fortnight.  The  days  and  weeks 
fly  so  fast  here  that  I  have  no  idea  of  time.  I  never  knew 
the  time  go  as  it  does,  the  weeks  seem  only  three  days 
long!  By  the  end  of  the  month  half  our  time  of  absence 
will  be  over.  Now  that  we  are  on  the  last  half  of  our 
time  here,  we  begin  to  wish  almost  that  it  were  longer.  We 
have  become  so  much  attached  to  Rome,  that  it  will  be 
awfully  hard  to  leave  it.  I  almost  dread  the  going  away, 
and  yet  I  shall  be  so  happy  when  once  my  steps  are  turned 
northward  and  homeward.  Rome  seems  like  a  home  now; 
I  know  the  streets  by  heart  and  can  go  from  one  end  of 
the  city  to  the  other  alone.  And  yet  we  have  not  begun 
to  see  all  its  wonders.  We  shall  leave,  I  fear,  without  see- 
ing half,  and  yet  we  are  busy  all  the  time  sight-seeing,  only 
we  do  not  go  at  it  so  desperately  as  we  did  in  London  and 
Florence.  We  think  we  do  well  if  we  see  one  thing  on 
every  day  in  the  week.  The  Vatican  we  have  just  begun 
and  it  will  take  us  ten  visits  to  see  it  thoroughly.  We  have 
seen  the  pictures  there  and  the  Sistine  Chapel.  The  Trans- 
figuration passes  description.  Nothing  ever  impressed  me 
so  much.  The  contrast  between  it  and  The  Communion 
of  St.  Jerome,  which  hangs  opposite,  is  strong.  In  the 
Transfiguration  it  seems  truly  as  though  a  part  of  the 
divine  essence  had  been  transferred  to  the  canvas.  I  have 
written  already  three  descriptions  of  these  pictures!  .  . 
and  they  seem  so  stupid  that  I  shall  not  say  any  more 
about  them.  The  Sistine  Chapel  disappointed  me  in  style 
of  architecture  and  in  size,  but  the  frescoes  were  perfect. 
We  spent  two  or  three  hours  there.  While  we  were  there 
the  Pope  passed  through  the  adjoining  passage  to  go  to  St. 
Peter's.    As  we  were  going  out  the  custodian  said  we  must 


76  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 

Age  B4 

wait  a  moment  as  he  was  just  going  back.  He  kindly  said, 
"If  you  would  like  to  see  him  Miss,  you  can  look  through 
the  key-hole,  or  I  will  open  the  door  on  a  crack".  I  said 
I  really  could  not  come  down  to  the  key-hole  but  I  would 
not  disdain  the  crack!  So  he  let  me  peep  through  and  I 
saw  Pio  Nono,  who  passed  about  a  yard  from  me.  I  have 
seen  him  before,  several  times,  but  never  so  closely.  He 
looks  a  kind,  amiable  person.  I  cannot  say  I  have  much 
admiration  for  his  character.  I  had  the  pleasure  today  to 
send  a  tiny  box  to  you  by  a  friend  of  Dr.  M.  of  Brooklyn. 
He  does  not  sail  till  April  so  you  will  not  get  the  box  till 
May  I  fear.  I  put  in  some  lace  I  happened  to  have  for 
you.  There  is  a  Roman  necktie  for  each  of  the  boys,  a 
scarf  and  a  scarf  pin  for  Arthur,  a  tiny  silver  cross  for 
Nettie.  .  .  .  We  had  quite  an  adventure  yesterday,  in 
our  drive.  We  took  with  us  our  friend,  Mrs.  Jackson,  of 
Philadelphia,  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Leslie  and  the  Chaffins. 
Our  courier  has  got  into  a  bad  way  lately  of  taking  too 
much  wine  with  his  dinner,  not  enough  to  make  him  tipsy, 
but  just  enough  to  make  him  stupid  and  obstinate.  We 
drove  out  on  the  Appian  Way,  and  when  we  got  about  four 
miles  out,  the  driver  stopped  at  a  side  road  that  led  to  some 
ruins,  and  asked  in  Italian  if  we  wanted  to  go  there.  I 
did  not  know  what  he  said  and  asked  Adolphe  who  made 
no  answer.  I  asked  again  and  got  no  reply,  and  then  I 
spoke  pretty  sharply.  Adolphe  turned  and  was  about  to 
speak  when  a  crash  came.  A  vetturino  had  tried  to  pass 
us  quickly  on  the  narrow  side  of  the  road  instead  of  going 
to  the  other  side  of  us,  and  catching  our  wheel,  crushed  it 
under  us,  we  going  down  for  a  moment.  The  vetturino 's 
horses  backed,  plunged,  tried  to  turn,  broke  the  tongue, 
got  tangled  in  the  harness,  and  finally  both  fell  flat.  Our 
horses  ran  a  moment  then  stopped.  I  told  Adolphe  to  get 
down  and  let  us  out,  which  he  coolly  declined  to  do !  Miss 
W.  then  ordered  him  to  do  it  and  he  said,  it  was  not  any 
use !  Upon  which  I  told  him  to  get  down  and  open  the  door 
at  once  or  suffer  the  consequences !    He  was  as  ugly  as  he 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  77 

1866 

Age  24 

could  be.  Just  then  another  carriage  drove  up  which  con- 
tained some  acquaintances,  the  Petersons  of  Philadelphia. 
Our  coach  was  unfit  to  use,  one  wheel,  the  back  one,  being 
quite  crushed  and  the  axle  bent  under.  We  had  a  con- 
sultation and  after  some  demurring  the  two  gentlemen, 
Mr.  Peterson  and  Mr.  Wilde,  insisted  on  our  going  home 
in  their  carriage  with  Mrs.  Peterson,  and  they  would  walk. 
There  seemed  no  other  way,  as  our  coach  was  unfit  for 
use  and  our  coachy  and  the  vetturino  were  having  a  regu- 
lar Italian  fight.  So  the  gentlemen  started  to  walk,  when 
what  does  my  tipsy  courier  do  but  get  on  to  the  box  to 
ride  home !  I  told  him  to  get  down  and  w^alk !  The  idea  of 
my  friends  walking  home  on  our  account  and  my  servant 
riding!  The  gentlemen  were  terribly  indignant  at  his  in- 
toxication and  stolid  obstinacy,  which  really  were  the  cause 
of  our  accident.  We  got  safely  home.  This  morning  the 
gentlemen  called  and  advised  me  either  to  dismiss  Adolphe 
or  at  least  to  make  him  walk  straighter  in  the  future.  So 
Miss  W.  had  a  talk  with  him  this  morning — and  whether 
he  will  go  or  reform  I  do  not  yet  know.  There  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  getting  a  good  courier,  so  I  shall  not  be  very  sorry 
if  he  goes,  for  he  has  not  been  satisfactory  for  some  time. 
.  .  .  .  Here  it  is  Tuesday  and  my  letter  not  finished, 
I  have  waited  hoping  to  receive  letters.  I  have  not  heard 
from  anyone  for  over  a  week  and  feel  quite  anxious  as  my 
last  ones  told  of  Father's  accident.  A  week  is  not  very 
long  except  when  one  is  anxious,  and  it  always  happens 
that  when  one  wants  letters  most  they  are  sure  to  be  de- 
layed. I  hope  soon  to  hear  from  you,  it  is  two  weeks  and 
more  since  I  had  a  letter  from  Boston.  We  are  having  a 
jolly  time  as  usual,  seeing  a  good  deal,  but  in  a  leisurely 
way,  and  meeting  oceans  of  people.  These  calls  are  often 
almost  a  bore.  It  keeps  one  busy,  just  returning  calls.  If 
it  were  not  that  in  many  cases  one  need  only  leave  a  card 
and  not  go  in  it  would  take  all  one's  time.  We  had  a 
pleasant  call  the  other  evening  from  Miss  Hosmer,  the 
sculptress.     She  came  flying  in  in  a  very  informal  way. 


78  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

and  spent  the  whole  evening  with  us.  She  is  a  bright,  in- 
tellectual person  quite  original  and  pleasant.  She  promised 
to  let  us  see  soon  a  new  statue  which  is  yet  in  the  clay,  and 
not  open  to  public  inspection.  It  is  a  companion  to  her 
"Sleeping  Faun"  and  represents  "The  Waking  Faun", 
Both  she  hopes  to  send  to  the  great  Paris  exhibition  next 
year.  We  have  been  to  her  studio,  to  Gibson's  and  to 
Rogers'  and  Hosier's.  I  was  disappointed  in  Gibson's 
coloured  statues  (his  specialty)  they  look  like  Dresden 
China.  Rogers  had  some  good  things.  By  the  way  they 
tell  a  good  story  of  Rogers  and  Jacob  Thompson,  the  rebel. 
Thompson  went  to  see  Rogers'  studio  with  the  intention 
of  ordering  from  Rogers  a  bust  of  himself.  Rogers  know- 
ing the  intention  and  not  desiring  to  accommodate  him  took 
occasion  to  uncover  a  fine  figure  of  Lincoln  saying  "I  con- 
sider this  one  of  my  best  works  Mr.  Thompson".  J.  T, 
left  in  disgust.  A  few  evenings  later  at  a  party  a  lady  said 
to  Rogers :  ' '  Why  Mr.  Rogers  how  could  you  so  treat  Mr. 
Thompson,  you  lost  a  good  order  I  can  tell  you  for  Mr. 
T.  intended  having  his  own  bust  done  and  also  portraits  of 
his  family".  To  which  Rogers  replied:  "Madam,  not  all 
the  money  which  Mr.  Thompson  could  beg,  borrow  or  steal 
would  induce  me  to  do  his  rebel  head"!  Good,  wasn't  it? 
We  went  to  drive  yesterday  in  the  Villa  Doria  and  on  our 
way  home,  met  the  Pope.  First  appeared  a  mounted  dra- 
goon who  said,  "the  Pope  approaches".  Soon  another 
appeared  who  ordered  our  carriage  to  the  side  of  the  road. 
Then  a  third  with  drawn  sword  galloped  past,  then  a 
whole  troop  of  dragoons  and  then  the  Pope's  carriage. 
The  old  gentleman  looked  out  of  the  window,  stared  at  us 
and  blessed  us  with  his  hand.  We  bowed  and  then  he 
passed  on,  a  troop  of  horse  after  him,  and  old  Cardinal 
Antonelli  in  another  coach.  We  also  saw  the  Queen  of 
Naples.  She  is  ever  so  pretty,  but  was  shabbily  dressed  in 
an  old  black  silk,  faded  shawl  and  round  hat.  We  also 
met  the  Austrian  Ambassador,  who  after  looking  at  us 
through  his  eye-glass,  took  it  into  his  head  he  knew  us  and 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  79 

1866 
Age  24 

SO  took  off  his  hat.  Our  kind  friend,  the  Countess  du 
Chastel,  came  in  the  other  day  and  spent  the  morning  with 
us.  I  have  not  heard  from  Holland  for  a  few  weeks,  but 
expect  a  letter  soon  from  Cousin  P.  ...  I  am  going 
to  have  my  picture  taken  in  chalk  for  Mother.  An  artist 
here  wishes  much  to  take  it,  and  promises  me  a  good  one. 
I  am  to  sit  first  on  Thursday.  The  weather  today  is  cloudy 
but  warm.  The  peach  trees  are  in  full  bloom,  and  when 
we  drove  yesterday  the  air  was  full  of  their  perfume.  I 
enclose  a  small  study  of  cats'  heads  by  Salvator  Eosa  for 
the  boys.  It  isn't  very  distinct,  but  is  celebrated.  Tell 
Gorham  as  I  could  not  send  him  a  pussie  from  Meadville 
last  fall,  I  send  him  one  from  Rome,  but  fear  it  is  not  so 
good  natured  as  mine  for  this  one  seems  to  be  scratching 
and  squealing.  After  you  receive  this  you  had  better  di- 
rect your  letters  to  the  care  of  Baring's,  London,  as  by 
the  time  answers  will  reach  us  we  may  be  on  the  move. 
We  had  intended  going  to  Naples  immediately  after  Holy 
Week  or  about  the  fifth  of  April,  but  I  hear  there  are  one 
or  two  cases  of  cholera  there  and  if  it  increases  of  course 
we  shall  not  go.  This  is  a  mere  rumour,  but  rest  easy  that 
much  as  I  want  to  go  there,  if  there  is  a  shadow  of  danger, 
I  shall  not  only  not  go,  but  instead  turn  for  the  north,  to 
Florence  or  Milan  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  it. 
With  dearest  love, 

Emma. 


JOURNAL 


Monday,  March  5. 
We  painted  all  morning  and  drove  in  the  afternoon  to 
the  Villa  Doria.  The  day  was  cloudy  and  the  place  did  not 
look  so  pretty  as  before,  but  the  Campagna  was  lovely. 
There  was  a  strange  effect  over  it ;  the  mist  covered  it  al- 
most from  sight,  and  it  looked  like  the  sea  in  a  fog.  The 
near  walls  looked  like  the  waves  on  the  beach  the  distance 
like  a  gray  rainy  sea,  the  ruins  dimly  seen  through  the 
mists  looked  like  the  black  sails  or  masts  of  ships.  I  had 
never  seen  such  an  effect  before  and  it  interested  me  much. 


80  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

Saturday,  March  10. 
We  went  to  the  Capitol  today,  and  the  "Dying  Gladia- 
tor" made  a  special  impression  on  me.  Then  the  ''Marble 
Faun"  more  than  equalled  my  expectations.  It  is  just  as 
Hawthorne  describes  it.  Miss  W.  thinks  he  looks  as  if  he 
were  just  about  to  leap  up  and  start  away  but  to  me  just 
the  opposite.  He  is  resting ;  the  careless  droop  of  the  hand, 
one  foot  resting  shows  a  quiet  mood.  He  looks  so  happy 
and  full  of  life  as  though  he  never  had  a  care.  He  has 
perhaps  little  soul  and  the  face  is  slightly  sensual,  but  he 
is  a  careless,  happy  creature  full  of  life  and  health  and 
enjoyment.  If  Hawthorne's  ''Donatello"  resembled  him 
he  must  indeed  have  been  beautiful.  Of  the  pictures  only 
one  struck  me ;  Guercino  's  ' '  Sta.  Petronella ' ',  We  stopped 
at  the  Marmertine  prison  where  supposedly  St.  Paul  was 
confined  but  where  more  certainly  Jugurtha  and  Vercin- 
getorix,  so  often  mentioned  in  Caesar's  Commentaries,  were 
imprisoned.  Passing  through  the  court  of  the  Capitol  we 
saw  the  first  milestone  on  the  ApjDian  Way  bearing  the 
names  of  Vespasian  and  Nerva. 

Thursday,  March  15. 
Nothing  to  do  all  day  but  be  thankful  for  life,  for  a 
more  perfect  day  never  was.  Warm,  the  sun  shining 
through  fleecy  clouds,  and  bewitching  mists  and  vapours 
hanging  over  the  hills;  the  Meet  of  the  Hounds  was 
two  miles  beyond  Porta  Pia.  We  crossed  a  stream 
by  a  queer  bridge,  Ponte  Nomentana,  part  bridge, 
part  castle  and  part  tower.  Just  beyond  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  was  the  Meet;  the  Pack,  forty  in  number,  were  all 
together  and  the  whipper-in  and  keeper  were  mounted  near 
them  dressed  in  scarlet.  There  were  about  a  hundred  car- 
riages and  some  peculiar  equipages.  Count  and  Countess 
Sartiges  in  a  phaeton  with  postillion.  Said  postillion  wore 
a  remarkable  livery,  yellow  top  boots,  yellow  breeches,  sky 
blue  jacket,  embroidered  and  laced  with  yellow,  and  gilt 
buttons,  a  grey  wig  braided  behind  into  a  long  tail  and 
finished  with  a  black  bow,  a  jockey  cap  on  his  head.  The 
gentlemen  were  nearly  all  in  scarlet  with  white  breeches 
and  vests.  Some  wore  black  velvet  coats.  The  ladies  were 
in  handsome  habits  and  hats.  When  all  were  assembled 
the  dogs  were  led  up  the  hill,  the  riders  following.  We 
walked  up  but  as  we  soon  lost  the  dogs  we  betook  our- 
selves to  the  carriage  again  and  drove  to  the  top  of  the 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  81 

1866 
Age   24 

next  and  highest  hill  where  we  were  surrounded  by  other 
carriages  and  some  English  mail  coaches.  We  soon  saw 
the  dogs  strike  the  scent,  the  riders  trotting  gently  off  and 
gradually  breaking  into  a  quick  gallop.  Then  quickly  they 
tore  through  the  meadow  up  one  hill  and  down  another, 
the  dogs  far  ahead.  They  barked,  but  on  the  whole  were 
rather  quiet,  only  a  few  giving  tongue.  Their  ears  were 
short  and  they  were  not  so  large  and  light  as  our  hounds, 
mostly  white  with  black  and  brown  spots.  The  hunt  swept 
out  of  sight  at  last  and  we  hoping  to  get  another  view  drove 
on  further  and  soon  heard  them  approaching.  They  rushed 
through  the  meadow  on  our  right  and  we  saw  the  fox  dash 
across  the  road  as  if  he  were  about  to  run  among  the  car- 
riages, but  he  skirted  the  base  of  the  hill  instead.  The 
dogs  were  some  way  behind,  the  red  coats  in  full  chase  and 
Miss  Cushman  ahead  of  them  all.  She  looked  as  though 
she  meant  to  go  to  the  end  of  the  world;  she  fairly  lifted 
her  horse  from  the  ground.  A  fence  intervened,  the  whole 
hunt  went  valiantly  over,  only  one  gentleman  coming  to 
grief.  We  regained  the  hill  and  saw  them  off  a  mile  or 
two  awa3^  The  fox  went  to  earth  and  the  dogs  and  riders 
came  slowly  back,  before  starting  for  another  hunt  while 
the  carriages  returned  to  Rome.  The  view  was  utterly 
beautiful;  the  Alban  and  Sabine  hills  were  wreathed  with 
mist  and  their  snowy  peaks  gleamed  out  radiantly  through 
the  purple  vapours. 

Tuesday,  March  20. 
We  spent  the  morning  at  the  Vatican.  .  .  .  Through 
the  "Stanze",  Fra  Angelico's  Chapel,  the  Library  and  the 
Braccio  Nuovo  on  to  "Melcager",  "Laocoon",  ''Antinu- 
ous",  "Ariadne",  and  "Jove".  After  this,  had  the  old 
god  Jupiter  himself  appeared  instead  of  his  statue,  I 
should  have  only  asked  him  where  the  carriage  was  and 
the  way  to  it. 

Wednesday,  March  21. 
We  drove  this  morning  to  the  Corsini  Gallery  but 
found  it  was  the  Princess's  reception  day  and  so  it  Avas 
closed  earlier  than  usual.  We  did  not  knov/  where  to  go, 
so  went  into  St.  Peter's  to  decide  at  leisure.  It  was  rain- 
ing and  there  were  few  people  in  the  church,  and  the  quiet 
and  rest  of  the  place  were  very  grateful.  We  went  all 
over  it  but  unfortunately  the  pictures  were  covered.     I 


82  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 

Ago   24 

heard  today  some  funny  stories  of  bandits.  The  people 
were  assembled  at  a  theatre  one  night,  and,  when  the  cur- 
tain rose  instead  of  the  actors  on  the  stage  there  appeared 
a  company  of  brigands.  The  leader  came  forward  and  in- 
formed the  assembly  that  they  must  all  go  home  and  get 
their  money  and  valuables  and  return  with  them.  At  the 
door  they  stationed  some  of  their  companions  who  accom- 
panied people  to  their  homes.  The  audience  meekly  brought 
back  and  delivered  its  money  and  jewels,  the  leader  bow- 
ing, thanked  them  and  they  retired  from  the  city. 

Tuesday,  March  27. 
We  drove  today  on  the  Via  Latina ;  on  coming  back 
visited  the  Villa  Wolkonski,  such  a  lovely  place ;  the  house 
very  simple,  but  the  grounds  perfect.  The  old  Claudian 
acqueduct  passes  through  them  and  is  draped  with  ivy. 
Every  arch  makes  a  lovely  picture  with  the  view  seen 
through  it  of  the  Campagna  on  one  side  and  the  city  on 
the  other.  The  rocks  and  cascades,  the  flowers  and  fine 
old  trees  and  fountains,  all  contribute  to  make  it  beautiful. 
We  called  on  Miss  Cushman  coming  back  and  met  the 
Pope,  and  had  just  time  to  scramble  down  from  the 
carriage  before  he  passed.  Nearly  every  one  fell  on  their 
knees. 


LETTERS 

Rome,  March  29,  1866. 
Dear  R. : 

I  fully  intended  that  my  letter  should  go  in  the  Mon- 
day mail,  but  such  a  rush  as  we  are  in!  It  gives  me  no 
time  to  think  or  write.  This  is  our  last  week  in  Rome,  and 
we  are  finishing  up  with  the  sights  and  shopping,  and  cere- 
monies. We  have  seen  more  in  the  last  fortnight  than  in 
any  month  before.  A  Roman  friend  who  knows  every  inch 
of  Rome  has  kindly  been  our  cicerone  for  a  week  almost 
every  day,  and  we  have  learned  much  from  him  that  most 
persons  do  not  know.  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin  to 
tell  you  all  Ave  have  seen.  Last  Tuesday  we  spent  the  whole 
day  at  the  Vatican.    It  was  a  day  not  to  be  forgotten.    We 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  83 

1866 

Age   24 

went  all  through  the  library.  I  saw  the  magnificent  fres- 
coes of  Raphael  and  others,  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  Then 
we  wandered  all  through  the  great  galleries  of  statuary  and 
lingered  long  till  the  custodian  came  and  ordered  us  away. 
Oh !  but  the  statues !  One  does  not  want  to  look  at  modern 
ones  after  seeing  the  antique.  They  are  so  wonderful.  The 
beautiful  Faun,  of  which  we  have  seen  so  many  repetitions, 
was  here  as  beautiful  as  ever.  Not  quite  so  perfect  as  the 
one  in  the  Capitol,  but  looking  older  and  more  worn  by 
time.  It  is  my  favourite  statue,  I  never  get  tired  looking  at 
it.  I  do  not  wonder  Hawthorne  was  inspired  by  it.  We 
are  re-reading  "The  Marble  Faun"  and  find  it  perfectly 
bewitching.  His  descriptions  and  criticisms  are  so  fine.  The 
other  statues  at  the  Vatican:  "Laocoon,"  " Meleager, " 
"Apollo"  and  "Antinuous"  you  are  familiar  with  I 
think.  The  "Laocoon"  is  grand,  there  is  no  greater 
statue.  Wednesday  we  went  to  the  Church  of  the 
Capuchins,  to  see  Guido's  picture  of  "St.  Michael  and 
the  Dragon."  Then  Miss  W.  wanted  to  go  to  the 
horrid  cemetery  below  where  all  the  bones  and  skele- 
tons of  all  the  dead  capuchin  monks  for  centuries  have  been 
placed.  I  did  not  want  to  go  but  went  as  far  as  the  door 
and  sent  Adolphe  in  with  her.  I  had  one  glimpse  of  a 
skeleton  of  a  monk  in  his  gown  and  cowl  lying  in  a  niche 
grinning;  and  of  walls  and  ceiling  covered  with  fanciful 
designs  in  bones  such  as  hearts,  diamonds,  rosettes,  squares, 
etc.  It  was  quite  enough  for  me.  Miss  W.  went  through 
four  rooms  and  then  came  back,  horror  and  disgust  de- 
picted on  her  face  and  heartily  wishing  she  had  not  gone 
in  as  I  knew  she  would.  Then  we  went  to  St.  Agostino  to 
see  the  great  wonder-working  Madonna,  which  is  covered 
from  head  to  foot  with  jewels.  The  Bambino  is  a  horrid 
little  doll  covered  with  jewels  too.  There  were  splendid 
necklaces  of  emeralds  and  diamonds,  and  pearls.  It  was 
equal  to  the  Crown  jewels  of  England.  The  statue  itself 
was  as  brown  as  bronze,  but  is  really  marble.  It  has  not 
been  washed  I  suppose  for  fear  of  washing  off  the  miracu- 


84  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  ^ 

1866 
Age   24 

lous  power,  these  superstitious  people  think  it  possesses, 
Thursday  we  only  got  out  for  an  hour  as  it  rained,  but  we 
looked  into  San  Clemente  where  there  is  an  ancient  temple 
under  the  present  church,  and  even  below  the  temple,  still 
lower  chambers.  We  also  saw  the  Baptistery  of  St.  John 
Lateran,  where  Constantine  was  baptized,  and  cured  of 
leprosy  by  St.  Sylvester.  Friday  we  visited  the  Corsini 
Gallery  and  the  Doria  Palace.  The  Corsini  has  one  of  the 
finest  collections  of  pictures  in  Rome,  Saturday  we  went 
to  the  Sciarra  where  the  beautiful  picture  by  Raphael  of 
' '  The  Violinist ' '  is.  There  was  a  good  ' '  St.  Sebastian ' '  there 
too.  Sunday  we  took  a  long  drive  on  the  Campagna.  The 
day  was  perfect,  and  the  hills  and  mountains  in  the  distance 
bathed  in  a  soft  purple  light  were  miraculously  beautiful. 
This  Roman  Campagna  is  a  dream  of  beauty.  It  is  never 
the  same,  always  changing,  always  lovely.  In  the  evening 
we  took  tea  with  the  Countess  du  Chastel  and  had  a  very 
pleasant  time.  There  were  several  Amsterdam  people  who 
talked  English  and  a  few  artists  and  priests.  I  talked 
French  to  a  countess  somebody,  who  was  kind  enough  to 
help  me  on  a  little  though  I  blundered  sadly  at  first.  They 
are  all  so  kind  and  when  they  can,  talk  English  to  you  and 
when  they  can 't  they  make  French  as  easy  as  possible.  The 
Countess  is  always  kindness  itself.  She  sent  us  the  other 
day  tickets  for  ajl  the  ceremonies  at  St,  Peter's  during 
Holy  Week,  Sunday  we  went  to  Overbeck's  studio, 
but  we  did  not  see  him  and  I  was  a  little  disappointed 
with  his  pictures.  They  are  beautiful  and  I  enjoyed  them 
exceedingly,  but  they  are  stolen.  All  the  finest  figures  are 
taken,  more  or  less,  from  the  old  masters.  He  draws  only 
in  outline  and  does  not  paint.  Four  little  medallions,  rep- 
resenting the  story  of  the  Ten  Virgins  were  exceedingly 
beautiful,  Monday  we  went  to  a  lot  of  studios  and  saw  a 
lot  of  mediocre  pictures,  and  got  woefully  tired  of  having 
to  praise  so  much  commonplace  stuff.  There  is  nothing  so 
wearisome  as  visiting  studios.  You  must  praise  whether 
you  like  things  or  not !     In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  see 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  85 

<  1866 

Age  24 

the  tomb  of  the  Nasos.  It  is  said  to  be  the  tomb  of  Ovid 
as  he  belonged  to  that  family.  Yesterday  we  went  and 
shopped  and  bought  pictures,  Roman  pearls,  bronze 
lamps,  etc.  .  .  .  The  sketches  I  have  put  in  to  enliven 
my  stupid  letter,  the  one  of  the  Shepherd,  was  done  by 
our  Roman  friend,  Cav.  C.  The  other  is  mine  for  the 
children's  amusement.  It  is  a  sketch  of  the  buffaloes  of 
which  there  are  many  about  here.  Some  are  domesticated 
and  used  for  draught  purposes.  They  must  accept  this  for 
their  valentine  and  I  will  send  them  some  more  sketches 
when  I  have  time  to  make  them.  .  .  .  My  best  love  to 
all  at  the  Bond 's  and  Aunt  Anna 's.    With  warmest  love. 

Yours  ever, 

Emma. 

March  30,  1866. 
My  Dearest  Little  Nephews: 

I  was  delighted  with  the  dear  little  valentines  you  sent 
me  last  week.  I  send  you  the  picture  of  the  buffaloes  which 
I  see  about  here.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them,  some- 
times a  hundred  in  one  field.  They  are  wild  looking  crea- 
tures but  sometimes  the  peasants  tame  them  and  use  them 
instead  of  oxen.  The  oxen  here  are  very  large  and  white, 
with  horns  as  long  as  those  you  have  in  the  parlour.  The 
peasants  in  the  country  wear  trousers  made  of  sheep's 
skin  with  the  wool  outside.  They  sometimes  wear  coats 
made  also  of  sheep  skin  and  then  they  look  just  like  a  great 
sheep  walking  on  two  legs.  In  my  next  letter  I  will  send 
you  a  sketch  of  one  of  these  peasants  dressed  all  in  sheep 
skin.  I  received  this  morning  your  nice  letters  with  your 
Mamma's.  I  have  to  write  as  fast  as  a  railroad  train  goes 
to  get  this  letter  off  in  time  for  the  mail  so  I  can't  write  a 
very  long  letter  to  you.  I  saw  a  great  many  lions  and 
tigers  and  wolves  in  London  and  in  Amsterdam.  The 
wolves  were  horried  things  and  the  hyenas  barked  and 
laughed  like  a  person  does,  and  then  would  cry  like  a  baby. 
The  hippopotami  were  ugly  things  with  tiny  eyes  and  they 


86  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 

Age  24 

were  all  swimming  about  in  the  water.  Two  Dutch  gen- 
tlemen came  to  see  me  last  night  and  they  talked  such 
funny  English  that  I  could  not  help  laughing.  Their 
names  were  Jan  Mees  and  Mr.  van  St  oik.  Aren't  they 
queer  names?     M^ith  lots  of  kisses  and  love  for  Papa. 

Your  loving 

Aunt  Emma. 


JOURNAL 


Sunday,  April  1. 
We  were  up  early  this  morning  and  went  to  the  Easter 
service  at  St.  Peter's.  We  had  seats  in  the  Tribune.  The 
procession  entered  at  nine,  cardinals,  bishops  and  arch- 
bishops preceding  the  Pope.  The  Mass  proceeded  to  the 
Elevation  when  softly,  sweetly  and  clearly  in  the  hush  of 
the  moment  the  silver  trumpets  sounded.  At  first  far  away 
in  the  dome  as  from  a  distant  band  of  angels,  then  more 
clearly  and  distinctly  till  the  sound  swelled  and  grew  and 
pealed  forth  over  the  kneeling  multitude.  .  .  .  We 
went  later  into  the  Piazza  to  witness  the  Papal  benedic- 
tion; the  crowd  was  tremendous,  the  lines  of  soldiers  in 
their  brilliant  uniforms,  the  peasants  in  their  best  attire 
and  richly  dressed  ladies  and  gentlemen  made  an  effective 
scene.  There  were  about  twenty  thousand  people  I  should 
think.  The  people  fell  on  their  knees  as  the  Pope  appeared 
on  the  Loggia  and  I  remembered  the  words  of  a  good  old 
Pope  who  when  a  haughty  English  noble  refused  to  kneel 
to  him  said  gently  "Kneel,  my  son,  an  old  man's  blessing 
will  not  injure  any  one".  ...  In  the  evening  we 
drove  to  see  the  illumination ;  the  whole  of  St.  Peter 's  was 
lighted  with  lanterns  outlining  the  building.  The  effect 
was  fine  when  suddenly  the  whole  burst  into  a  blaze  of 
light  glowing  and  glittering  like  a  great  jewel.  Even  the 
topmost  cross  was  all  alight.  I  am  told  the  lighting  of  the 
cross  is  very  dangerous  and  a  convict  is  usually  selected 
to  do  it.  The  Pope  confesses  him  and  he  goes  up;  if  he 
comes  down  he  is  pardoned.  , 

Wednesday,  April  4,  Naples. 
We  started    today  for    Naples  at  nine.     The  ride  to 
Ceprano  was  pleasant.    We  were  wear.y  when  we  reached 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  87 

1866 
Age  24 

Naples  and  I  never  saw  such  a  dreadful  place  as  the  sta- 
tion ;  our  bags  and  cloaks  were  almost  torn  from  us  and 
one  unlucky  man  had  his  books  snatched  from  him  by  a 
ragged  boy  who  demanded  four  francs  to  carry  them  to 
the  omnibus,  a  distance  of  four  steps.  We  sat  like  martyrs 
for  an  hour  in  a  coach  and  at  last  got  off,  but  such  a  racket. 
Men  shouting  in  French,  swearing  in  Italian,  yelling  in 
German  and  vociferating  in  bad  English !  When  we  reached 
the  hotel  we  were  told  there  were  no  rooms  which  was 
comforting,  and  the  man  added  that  all  the  hoterls  were 
full  and  we  could  not  get  in  anywhere.  It  looked  for  a 
moment  as  though  we  might  have  to  spend  the  night  in 
the  omnibus,  but  at  last  a  room  was  found.  It  looks  into 
a  nice  little  garden  full  of  orange  and  lemon  trees.  Pigeons 
fly  about  and  settle  on  our  balcony  or  coo  and  flutter  about 
the  dove  cote.  An  amiable  cat  winks  at  me  when  I  speak 
to  her  but  never  moves  from  her  cozy  perch  on  a  sunny 
wall.  A  frisky  dog  has  kept  up  a  general  contest  with  a 
lazy  turtle  and  which  was  the  greater  coward  I  could  not 
say. 

Our  first  day  was  rainy  so  that  we  only  took  a  drive 
along  the  Chiaja;  the  second  day  it  still  rained  but  we 
could  drive  through  the  city.  It  is  a  busy  and  thriving 
place,  more  like  an  American  town,  so  different  from 
Rome, — that  dead  city  of  the  past  where  one  lives  in  and 
studies  the  past  and  forgets  the  progressive  present. 

Saturday,  April  7. 

We  started  today  in  a  most  delightful  little  phaeton  for 
Pompeii ;  we  drove  through  Resina,  Portici  and  Torre  An- 
nunziata  and  after  a  two  hours'  drive  along  the  bay  catch- 
ing here  and  there  most  enchanting  glimpses  through 
palace  gardens  and  arched  avenues  we  reached  Pompeii. 
.  .  .  It  is  perfectly  preserved  and  so  also  were  the 
lizards;  such  oceans  of  little  horrors,  they  swarmed  on  the 
walls  and  steps  and  ran  over  and  under  your  feet.  Harm- 
less enough  no  doubt,  but  not  agreeable  to  walk  on ! 

Pompeii  is  still  being  excavated  but  slowly;  I  would 
much  like  to  be  at  the  opening  of  a  new  house;  they 
open  one  every  few  months.  At  the  Naples  museum  yes- 
terday we  saw  all  the  curiosities  found  in  Pompeii.  Our 
drive  home  was  by  Resina  again  where  we  stopped  at  the 
door  of  Herculaneum.    The  turnstile  admitting  one  to  Pom- 


88  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

peii  was  bad  enough  but  ringing  at  the  door  of  Hercu- 
laneum  as  much  as  to  ask  if  it  was  at  home  so  overcame 
my  sensibilities  that  I  shook  my  head  and  faintly  said 
' '  Drive  on ' '.  The  name  was  positively  on  the  doorplate ! 
It  is  so  under  Resina  that  it  cannot  be  excavated  like 
Pompeii  or  the  town  would  subside  into  its  cellars. 

Sunday,  April  8. 
We  drove  along  the  Chiaja  for  some  distance,  then 
climbed  the  hill  above  the  city  and  back  for  several  miles 
along  its  brow.  The  view  was  superb ;  the  bay  was  as  blue 
as  the  sky  and  Capri  lay  bathed  in  a  soft  purple  light. 
The  road  was  very  narrow;  we  passed  groups  of  gailj'' 
dressed  peasants  in  their  Sunday  attire;  the  walls  were 
alive  with  lizards  and  gay  with  scarlet  poppies,  long  trail- 
ing sprays  of  verbenas  of  many  colours  and  the  pretty  blue 
lupins.  There  were  white  rose  vines  and  white  hawthorne 
perfuming  the  air.  We  came  at  last  into  the  town  again 
and  at  one  place  saw  a  whole  company  of  soldiers  who 
were  just  starting  out  on  some  frolicsome  expedition, 
mounted  on  donkeys.  The  selection  of  donkeys  was  rather 
ludicrous ;  the  tallest  grenadiers  being  mounted  on  the  most 
diminutive  animals.  They  were  in  great  glee  singing, 
laughing  and  shouting.  We  drove  home  through  Portici 
and  got  to  the  hotel  just  at  six. 

Monday,  April  9. 
We  took  the  train  at  half  past  ten  to  Castellamare,  a 
very  uninteresting  place,  but  the  road  ran  close  to  the 
shore  and  we  had  beautiful  glimpses  of  the  bay  and  a  won- 
derful display  of  scarlet  portulaccas  and  asters  all  the 
way.  At  Castellamare  we  took  a  carriage  with  three  horses 
abreast  and  tore  along  the  road.  The  road  is  built  in  many 
places  of  solid  masonry,  in  others  cut  from  the  cliff ;  it  fol- 
lows the  indentations  of  the  shore  and  winds  along  among 
orange  and  lemon  groves,  yellow  with  fruit  and  fragrant 
with  blossoms.  Every  wall  was  draped  with  white  rosea 
and  every  hedge  odorous  with  hawthorne.  We  reached 
Sorrento  and  the  Albergo  delle  Sirene  at  one  o'clock.  The 
view  was  most  lovely,  taking  in  the  whole  circle  of  the  bay 
with  Vesuvius  smoking  slightly  and  Capri,  the  purple 
veiled,  asleep  on  the  water.  The  little  fishing  boats  off 
Castellamare  danced  about  on  the  sea  and  some  fishermen 
were  drawing  up  a  sail  boat  on  the  beach.    We  went  to  a 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  89 

1866 

Age  24 

shop  for  inlaid  wood,  then  to  an  orange  garden  where  we 
picked  oranges  warm  from  the  tree  and  ate  them.  I  never 
tasted  anything  like  them  before.  We  picked  some  to  take 
away  with  us  and  returned  to  the  hotel  for  lunch.  During 
lunch  two  musicians  played  just  outside  the  door ;  we  were 
regaled  with  choice  airs  from  "Don  Giovanni"  and  "Lu- 
crezia  Borgia"  and  then  they  suddenly  struck  up  "Hail 
Columbia"  and  other  national  airs.  After  lunch  we  went 
to  see  the  house  of  Tasso  and  the  deep  ravine  which  Mrs, 
Stowe  so  well  describes  in  her  "Agnes  of  Sorrento".  We 
drove  back  at  a  furious  pace,  reached  Castellamare  in  an 
hour  and  a  half  and  again  took  the  train  for  Naples.  The 
beauty  of  that  view  at  sunset  passes  description.  The 
nearer  hills  were  bathed  in  purple  shadows,  the  faraway 
mountains  were  flushed  with  rosy  light,  the  setting  sun  set  a 
long  train  of  molten  gold  on  tiie  water,  the  sky  was  a  sea 
of  orange  light  melting  into  the  soft  grey  of  the  zenith. 
Capri  far  away  with  sad  serene  face  looking  heavenward, 
and  Naples  nestling  at  the  foot  of  the  protecting  hills,  her 
white  palaces  and  villas  glittering  in  the  last  rays  of  the 
sunlight.  Such  a  golden  glory  over  all !  The  picture  so  per- 
fect, so  gorgeous,  so  warm,  so  dreamlike.  Only  the  old  beau- 
tiful lines  can  at  all  describe  it;  and  they  rang  through 
my  memory  ceaselessly  that  evening. 

"My  soul  today  is  far  away 

Sailing  the  Vesuvian  bay 

My  winged  boat  a  bird  afloat 

Sails  round  the  purple  peaks  remote." 

"Round  purple  peaks  it  sails  and  seeks 
Blue  islands  and  the  bluer  deeps. 
With  half-shut  eyes  my  spirit  lies 
Under  the  Myalls  of  Paradise." 

Aldrich  wrote  that  on  a  bleak,  cold,  snowy  day  in  New 
York,  and  how  often  among  the  snows  and  wintry  winds 
of  my  dear  home  far  away  I  shall  recall  this  glorious  sun- 
set on  the  Vesuvian  bay. 

Tuesday,  April  10. 
We  saw  today  the    Royal    Palace  at  Capo  di  Monte. 
There  were  about  twenty  rooms  full  of  pictures  and  ar- 
mour.   I  did  not  care  much  for  the  modern  historical  pic- 


90  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

tures  which  predominated.    We  got  some  gloves  and  some 
coral  and  a  lava  brooch  on  the  way  back. 


Rome,  Wednesday,  April,  11. 
We  reached    Rome  at  six  today  and  found    pleasant 
rooms  on  the  front  at  the  dear  Hotel  de  Rome. 

Saturday,  April  14. 
We  went  for  our  last  drive  on  the  Campagna,  past  St. 
John  Lateran  to  1jie  Via  Latina,  past  tombs  along  the  be- 
loved Claudian  Acqueduct,  every  inch  of  the  way  dear  to 
us,  and  we  returned  past  the  Coliseum  and  San  Pietro  in 
Vincoli  to  see  again  the  great  "Moses".  I  like  to  think 
that  every  stroke  of  the  great  work  was  done  by  the  mas- 
ter's hand,  not  by  hirelings  as  in  these  modern  days.  My 
eyes  filled  with  tears  as  I  looked  my  last  on  the  Coliseum, — 
not  my  last  though  I  hope. 

Monday,  April  16,  Perugia. 
Left  Rome.  We  were  up  at  five,  breakfasted  and  reached 
the  station.  Such  a  crowd  and  fuss  and  noise  and  con- 
fusion. We  waited  and  waited  for  Adolphe  and  at  last 
took  our  bags,  cloaks  and  rugs  and  got  our  own  seats  in 
the  train.  I  then  went  back  to  find  the  courier  but  was 
unsuccessful  and  made  a  rush  for  the  train  again  when  just 
as  it  started  Adolphe  came  rushing  up  to  the  window  in- 
quiring breathlessly  not,  whether  we  were  comfortable  and 
had  everything,  but  "Whether  we  had  his  umbrella", 
which  upset  us  completely  and  justified  Miss  W.  in  her 
suggestion  one  day  when  we  could  not  make  him  hear 
by  calling  him  Adolphe  that  we  should  try  "umbrella,  um- 
brella" which  would  surely  bring  him.  The  way  past  St. 
John  Lateran  and  the  Claudian  Acqueduct  was  very  lovely, 
but  it  took  us  away  from  Rome,  dear,  dear  Rome!  where 
we  have  been  so  happy  and  which  has  proved  such  a  refuge 
and  rest  to  us.  Glorious  Rome !  too,  so  full  of  old-time  in- 
terests and  past  glories,  more  glorious  in  her  ruins  than 
others  in  their  prime.  God  bless  Rome ! — but  not  her  gov- 
ernment. We  reached  Terni  at  twelve  and  at  Narni  saw 
the  bridge  of  Augustus  of  which  I  have  a  picture.  We 
reached  Foligno  at  two  and  immediately  took  carriage  to 
Perugia.     It  was  a  lovely  drive  between  hedges  of  white 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  91 

1866 

Age  24 

hawthorne  and  roses  and  walls  with  long  sprays  of  cle- 
matis, and  luxuriant  bushes  of  the  wild  azalea,  the  fra- 
grance of  which  filled  the  air.  The  last  few  miles  were 
up  a  long,  long  hill ;  we  saw  Assisi  in  the  distance.  Up  the 
hill  we  had  extra  locomotive  power  in  the  shape  of  the  beau- 
tiful white  oxen.  We  reached  Perugia  just  at  dusk  and 
came  under  the  grim  old  walls  and  frowning  archways  and 
wound  up  its  quaint  streets  and  under  gateways  till  at 
last  we  reached  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste  and  got  to  our  rooms 
which  were  odd  enough;  the  parlour  was  like  a  billiard 
room  and  the  table  vast  in  extent,  but  a  fire  and  lamps 
soon  made  it  bright  and  cheerful  and  we  spent  a  happy 
evening. 

Tuesday,  April  17. 

We  breakfasted  at  ten  and  then  went  out  to  see  Perugia. 
Such  a  delightful  quaint  old  place  it  is.  ...  I  was  so 
glad  to  see  the  statue  of  Pope  Julius  II  in  the  Square  be- 
fore the  Cathedral.  I  stood  a  long  time  under  it,  looking 
up  into  the  kind  face  of  the  old  Pope  who  extends  his  hand 
in  blessing.  We  then  went  up  a  long,  steep  street  of  steps 
and  reached  the  wall  of  the  city  and  further  out  a  point 
where  we  could  look  over  the  magnificent  country.  W^e 
could  see  for  miles  and  miles,  Assisi  on  one  side,  Foligno 
on  the  other  and  the  hills  stretching  far  away  one  beyond 
the  other;  it  was  such  a  lovely  day.  We  went  back  by 
another  long  flight  of  steps  and  through  more  narrow 
streets,  passing  the  Arch  of  Augustus  and  most  picturesque 
towers  and  came  at  last  to  the  museum  where  there  was  a 
great  collection  of  Perugino  's  pictures  and  Giotto 's.  .  .  . 
We  dined  at  six,  and  laughed  much  over  the  Peruginesque 
style  that  seemed  to  prevail  in  everything.  The  chickens 
were  long  and  lean,  the  teaspoons  were  queer  and  slim,  the 
forks  had  little  prong  and  much  handle ;  the  waiter  was 
a  dazed  youth  who  stared  at  us  instead  of  waiting  and  was 
so  long  bringing  on  the  courses  that  0.  turned  waiter  and 
presented  us  with  hot  plates  and  clean  knives  and  forks  in 
real  Perugino  style!  It  was  a  nice  dinner,  at  least  we  en- 
joyed it. 

Wednesday,  April  18. 

We  left  Perugia  this  morning  and  reached  Florence  at 
five  o'clock  and  found  rooms  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Paix. 


92  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 


1866 
Age  24 


Dear  R. 


LETTERS 

Florence,  April  21,  1866. 


I  have  been  making  most  desperate  attempts  to  write 
you  and  A.  for  a  week,  but  have  entirely  failed  in  that  as 
in  other  things.  Indeed  I  can  hardly  tell  whether  what  I 
have  done  equals  what  I  have  not  done !  Such  a  fortnight 
of  confusion  I  never  passed  through  before.  When  we 
returned  from  Naples  whence  I  last  wrote  you,  we  spent 
four  days  in  Rome.  First  we  had  to  attend  to  the  pack- 
ing and  sending  off  of  our  pictures,  which  was  finally  ac- 
complished much  to  our  satisfaction.  It  was  quite  a 
weight  off  my  mind  when  they  were  gone.  I  only  hope 
they  may  go  safely.  .  .  .  Then  we  had  last  shopping 
to  do,  though  not  much,  then  there  were  last  sights  to  be 
seen,  and  farewell  calls  to  be  made  and  received,  which  was 
the  most  painful  operation  of  all,  for  we  have  become  so 
closely  attached  to  some  persons  in  Rome.  My  good  friend, 
the  Countess  du  C,  was  in  deep  affliction,  having  just  lost 
her  Mother,  and  the  Count  was  quite  ill.  One  friend  came 
with  us  as  far  as  Perugia  to  protect  us  from  brigands! 
.  .  ,  We  came  by  rail  to  Foligno,  thence  by  coach  to 
Perugia,  where  we  arrived  about  five  o'clock.  The  next 
day  we  spent  there  as  we  wished  to  see  the  pictures  and 
frescoes  of  Perugino.  Perugia  is  a  lovely  old  place.  It 
stands  on  the  top  of  a  hill  which,  is  almost  a  mountain. 
Such  queer  old  archways  and  machicolated  towers  and  pic- 
turesque houses  and  narrow  old  streets  I  have  not  seen  be- 
fore. From  the  windows  you  have  a  magnificent  view  of 
fifty  miles  of  country  and  mountains.  Foligno  on  one 
side,  Assisi  on  another,  with  their  towers  and  walls.  We 
were  lodged  in  a  queer  old  inn  that  may  have  been  two 
or  three  centuries  old.  During  the  day  we  spent  there  we 
visited  several  churches  and  the  places  where  most  of 
Perugino 's  pictures  are.  Some  of  them  were  fine  but  he 
repeats  himself  so  much,  he  gets  so  tiresome  with  tAvo  angels 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTEBS  93 


1866 
Age   24 


and  saints  one  side  precisely  like  the  angels  and  saints  on 
the  other  side  of  the  everlasting  Madonna  that  we  quite 
lost  patience  at  last.  You  know  he  was  such  a  mercenary 
old  wretch  that  for  many  years  his  ambition  was  to  get  as 
much  money  as  he  could  for  as  little  work  as  possible.  So 
he  repeated  himself.  In  the  Square  at  Perugia  we  saw  the 
bronze  statue  of  Pope  Julius,  which  comes  into  Haw- 
thorne's ''Marble  Faun",  as  the  place  where  Miriam  and 
Donatcllo  meet  after  the  separation.  Do  you  remember  it  ? 
We  were  so  pleased  with  Perugia  that  we  quite  decided  to 
return  there  some  time  for  a  few  weeks  to  sketch  and  enjoy 
again  its  queer  old  houses  and  arches.  I  have  never  seen 
such  a  quaint  place.  I  truly  hope  to  see  it  again.  On 
Wednesday  we  loft  in  the  coach  and  came  to  Torricella 
where  we  took  the  train  for  Florence.  Torricella  is  on  the 
lovely  Lake  of  Trasimene,  celebrated  for  the  terrible  battle 
fought  centuries  ago  on  its  banks.  Around  it  are  many 
places  familiar  to  us  from  Macaulej^'s  "Lays  of  Ancient 
Rome".  The  stream  Clitumnus,  and  Cortona  who  "still 
lifts  to  Heaven  her  diadem  of  towers".  The  lake  was  a 
dream  of  beauty.  The  mountains  about  all  reflected  in  it 
as  in  a  mirror.     ,     .     . 


JOURNAL 


Bologna,  Monday,  April  23. 

We  left  for  Bologna  this  morning  and  for  two  mortal 
hours  we  went  through  what  seemed  one  vast  tunnel.  There 
were  really  forty-three  tunnels.  We  would  rush  through 
one,  emerge  suddenly  into  the  blinding  light,  catch  a 
glimpse  of  some  lovely  scene,  and  just  as  we  began  to  dis- 
tinguish its  beauties  we  would  plunge  into  another  dark 
hole.  The  coal  smoke  from  the  engine  generated  a  sulphur- 
ous gas  or  smoke  which  nearly  suffocated  us,  and  there  was 
no  keeping  it  out.  At  last  at  three  o'clock  we  reached 
Bologna  and  in  a  rackety  old  omnibus  were  jolted  over 
distracting  pavements  to  the  Hotel  Brun. 


94  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

Tuesday,  April  24. 
AVe  went  by  train  to  the  station  beyond  Ferrara,  then 
were  obliged  to  wade  through  mud  to  the  other  end  of  the 
town  and  reached  the  diligence  office,  in  which  delightful 
retreat  we  spent  an  hour.  Then  crossed  the  river  Po  in  an 
antiquated  wash-tub  and  were  landed  in  an  extensive 
marsh  on  the  other  side.  Here  we  waded  about  while  an 
officer  opened  our  bags,  gave  them  a  poke  with  his  hand 
and  shut  them  again  with  a  melancholy  air.  We  made 
two  unsuccessful  attempts  before  getting  into  the  right 
diligence;  at  last  we  were  placed  on  the  front  seat  of  a 
carriage  where  we  had  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  coun- 
try. This  would  have  been  pleasant  had  there  been  any- 
thing whatever  to  see,  and  had  the  current  of  cold  air  had 
less  uninterrupted  passage  over  our  feet  and  heads.  The 
latter  we  protected  by  putting  shawls  over  them  but  three 
cloaks  and  a  rug  and  a  leather  apron  did  nothing  to  im- 
prove the  former  condition  and  we  resigned  ourselves  to 
the  monotony  of  the  Lombard  country.  It  is  so  flat  with 
canals  and  ditches  and  endless  rows  of  poplars,  and  now 
and  then  a  bog  for  variety.  We  ate  our  lunch  and  begged 
Adolphe  to  find  us  inside  seats  at  the  first  opportunity,  for 
we  were  nearly  frozen.  At  six  we  drove  into  Padua  pass- 
ing a  square  surrounded  with  a  balustrade  on  which  were 
statues  at  intervals,  past  the  University  and  Cathedral  and 
many  churches,  through  narrow  streets  with  arcades  as  at 
Bologna  and  at  last  we  reached  the  Albergo  della  Stella 
d'Oro  where  to  our  grief  Ave  learned  v»^e  must  wait  three 
hours  and  a  half  before  the  train  left.  However  at  half 
past  ten  we  finally  reached  Venice.  Adolphe  put  us  into 
a  gondola,  soon  collected  our  baggage  and  we  Avere  off. 
Through  the  dim  evening  light,  along  quiet  canals,  with 
palaces  overshadowing  us,  past  rows  of  lights  reflected  in 
the  water,  no  sound  but  the  plashing  of  the  oars  and  now 
and  then  the  musical  call  of  the  gondoliers  as  they  met 
each  other.  It  was  luxurious  after  the  noise  and  bustle  of 
the  day  to  recline  at  ease  on  our  cushions,  hear  no  noise, 
see  nothing  but  now  and  then  a  shadow  of  a  gondola  shoot 
by.  And  so  we  glided  under  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  into  the 
Grand  Canal  and  at  last  were  landed  at  Daniele's  Royal 
Hotel  where  a  pleasant  room  was  ready  for  us.  During 
this  day  we  have  been  in  eight  vehicles,  omnibus,  train, 
tub,  carriage,  diligence,  omnibus,  train,  gondola, — and  the 
last  was  the  best. 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  95 

1866 
Age  24 

Venice,  Wednesday,  April  25. 
And  we  are  really  in  Venice,  Queen  City  of  the  Sea. 
.     .     .     In  our  walk  wc  went  into  San  Marco  but  High 
Mass  was  proceeding  it  being  St.  Mark's  day  and  we  could 
see  little. 

Friday,  April  27. 
We  went  today  to  Sta.  Maria  della  Salute  and  to  Sta. 
Maria  Gloriosa  dei  Frari  and  lounged  about  the  Square 
the  rest  of  the  day  and  had  ices  at  Florian's. 

Saturday,  April  28. 
We  did  nothing  all  morning  but  read  and  write  but 
after  lunch  went  out  to  shop.  Shopping  with  us  generally 
means  looking  in  at  the  shop  windows,  but  today  w^e  were 
tempted  within  and  bought  various  things.  Then  we  had 
our  usual  ice  at  Florian's;  they  are  so  delicious,  and  after 
dinner  went  in  a  gondola  as  far  as  the  Public  Garden.  It 
was  dark  but  lovely.  We  followed  up  the  Grand  Canal 
past  the  beautiful  palace  of  the  Foscari  also  by  the  palace 
where  Byron  lived,  under  the  Rialto,  past  the  Ca'd'Oro 
where  Taglioni  lives  now,  past  the  house  where  Shylock 
lived,  now  the  Monte  di  Pieta,  and  under  the  shadow  of 
the  ruined  palace  of  Lucretia  Borgia.  It  was  a  lovely  ex- 
perience and  we  luxuriated  in  it. 

Milan,  Saturday,  May  5. 
We  reached  Verona  last  night  and  w^ere  comfortably 
lodged  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Tour  de  Londre.  This  morning 
we  made  a  hurried  sketch  of  the  Tomb  of  Conte  Castel- 
barga  which  stands  close  to  the  church  and  convent  of  Sta. 
Anastasia  which  he  built.  We  then  took  a  rickety  old  gig 
and  a  bony  horse, — all  that  could  be  had, — and  went  off 
to  see  the  tomb  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  Adolphe  has  a  rooted 
objection  to  asking  the  way  and  our  first  halt  was  in  the 
garden  of  the  Conte  Giusti  where  we  were  told  that  the 
right  place  was  a  mile  away.  We  were,  however,  deter- 
mined to  see  the  object  of  our  drive  so  we  proceeded  much 
to  Adolphe 's  disgust.  We  reached  at  last  a  weedy  old 
garden,  and  entering  through  a  mason 's  shop  we  tore  about 
looking  for  the  tomb,  which  we  at  last  found  in  a  small 
court  of  a  convent  or  church.  It  was  a  rough  stone  sar- 
cophagus with  broken  pillars  lying  about;  it  is  no  doubt 
an  imposture,  the  original  tomb  was  probably  destroyed 


96  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866  ' 

Age  24 

long  ago.  We  drove  back  to  the  station  and  took  the  train 
as  far  as  Pesehiera  where  we  took  an  omnibus  and  passed 
a  long  line  of  fortifications  along  the  frontier.  Just  at  the 
gate  of  Pesehiera  we  were  obliged  to  show  our  passports 
to  some  fierce  looking  Austrian  officers.  Then  we  went  by 
ramparts  and  redoubts  and  entrenchments  bristling  with 
cannon  to  another  station,  where  our  trunks  were  to  be 
examined, — but  by  jingling  my  keys  carelessly  and  offer- 
ing them  to  the  officer  he  touched  his  cap  and  declined 
them.  We  drove  for  two  miles  along  the  shore  of  the  lovely 
Lago  di  Garda,  such  a  pretty  lake  surrounded  with  moun- 
tains and  pretty  villages  and  old  castles  all  along  the 
shore.  We  reached  Descnzano  where  while  waiting  for  the 
train  we  sketched  the  castle  with  the  lake  beyond  and  the 
snowy  peaks. 


The  way  to  Milan  was  quite  pretty;  at  almost  every 
station  the  train  was  boarded  by  Italian  recruits;  they 
were  a  rough,  wild  set  and  shouted  and  sang  and  howled 
like  savages,  but  it  made  me  sad  to  see  the  parting  of 
friends  who  came  to  see  them  off;  it  reminded  me  so  much 
of  the  last  few  sad  years  at  home.  At  nine  we  reached 
Milan  and  the  Hotel  Cavour  where  we  are  quite  com- 
fortable. 

Sunday,  May  6. 
From  our  windov/  I  can  see  a  great  statue  of  Cavour. 
On  a  marble  base  the  figure  of  Fame  is  writing  the  name 
"Cavour"  which  she  never  seems  to  finish.     Cavour  looks 
as  though  he  wanted  a  hat. 

Villa  d'Este,  Lake  of  Como,  Monday,  May  14. 
We  reached  here  today  driving  from  Como  to  Cernob- 
bio.  The  road  lay  along  the  lake  with  pretty  villas  and 
gardens  on  the  shore,  the  hills  covered  with  vineyards  re- 
flected in  the  water.  This  hotel  is  a  queer  old  place,  fres- 
coed all  over  and  with  machicolated  towers  and  balconies 
over  the  water.  It  has  rather  a  pasteboard  appearance  at 
close  range  and  must  look  better  at  a  distance.  There  is  a 
round  tower  on  the  hill,  a  good  subject  for  a  sketch.  Our 
rooms  are  pleasant.  Our  stone  balcony  overhangs  the  lake. 
We  can  see  beneath  numbers  of  fish  and  when  we  throw 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEKS  97 

1866 
Age  24 

them  bread  they  rise  in  shoals  to  get  it.  This  house  was 
formerly  the  Villa  d'Este  residence  of  Queen  Caroline  of 
Brunswick,  wife  of  George  IV,  and  she  lived  here  after 
she  separated  from  her  husband.  The  grounds  are  Avell 
laid  out  and  I  know  we  shall  like  the  place. 

Tuesday,  May  15. 
This  has  been  a  day  of  complete  rest  except  for  a  short 
walk  during  which  Miss  W.  picked  flowers  and  I  specu- 
lated on  the  cause  of  the  numerous  dead  frogs  we  saw.     I 
counted  seven  in  the  road. 

Wednesday,  May  16. 
We  met  today  on  our  walk  an  old  English  gentleman 
with  whom  we  talked  at  dinner  last  night  and  he  offered 
to  show  us  the  villa  he  had  then  spoken  of.  It  was  right 
up  the  side  of  the  mountain  very,  very  steep  for  a  half  a 
mile.  The  villa  belongs  to  Baron  Ciani  and  when  he  was 
on  one  of  his  campaigns  his  wife  thought  she  would  make 
some  warlike  improvements  to  please  him  on  his  return, 
so  she  put  up  a  castle  and  tow^ers  and  walls  on  the  hill 
and  called  it  "Saragossa".  Of  course  it  looks  absurdly 
and  the  old  Baron  is  said  to  have  sworn  when  he  came 
home.  A  curious  story  was  told  us  by  our  escort.  There 
was  a  house  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  newly  and  strong- 
ly built  and  furnished.  A  new  piano  had  just  been  sent 
from  Milan  and  the  family  were  soon  to  take  possession. 
The  servants  were  at  work  one  day  on  the  place  and  hear- 
ing a  slight  noise  turned  and  saw  the  house  majestically 
gliding  into  the  lake.  It  did  not  break  but  went  down 
whole  and  there  it  is  at  the  bottom  now,  but  the  water  is 
too  deep  for  it  to  be  raised  and  the  mermaids  play  on  the 
piano  and  dance  through  its  halls  and  the  fish  look  in  at 
the  windows.  The  cause  Vv^as  a  landslide  on  a  concealed 
quicksand.  After  dinner  w^e  walked  through  the  village, 
the  men  and  women  bowing  to  us  and  the  little  boys  touch- 
ing their  caps.  I  like  to  see  the  Italian  life  of  this  amus- 
ing little  village. 

Tuesday,  May  22. 
We  drove  to  Como  today  and  saw  the  recruits  and  vol- 
unteers to  the  Italian  army ;  every  one  expects  an  outbreak 
in  a  few  days. 


98  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 
Age  24 

LETTER 
Villa  d'Este,  Lake  of  Como,  Friday,  May  25,  1866. 
My  Dearest  Mother : 

I  have  told  M.  all  the  news  of  which  there  was  very 
little  to  tell  for  we  have  been  leading  the  most  quiet  of 
lives  lately.  One  walk  and  one  row  each  day  and  the  rest 
all  reading,  or  sewing  or  writing.  Very  little  of  the  first, 
considerable  of  the  second,  and  a  great  deal  of  the  last.  It 
keeps  me  pretty  busy  writing  twelve  pages  a  week  home, 
the  same  to  R.  and  A.,  etc.,  but  I  never  write  very  long  at 
a  time.  I  write  a  page  or  two  and  then  go  for  a  walk, 
write  another  sheet  and  go  for  a  row,  etc.,  and  so  I  never 
get  tired.  Today  it  is  so  wet  we  can  do  nothing  but  write 
and  walk  about  the  room.  We  keep  ourselves  so  contin- 
ually busy  about  one  thing  and  another  that  we  are  never 
blue;  only  just  now  we  feel  rather  forlorn  at  having  had 
no  letters,  but  when  we  reach  Martigny  I  feel  sure  we  shall 
find  a  whole  batch  of  them  and  most  welcome  they  will  be. 
.  .  .  Miss  W.  and  I  have  been  mending  preparatory  to 
our  Swiss  campaign !  Travelling  is  destructive  to  clothes, 
my  black  silk  has  had  a  regular  overhauling  and  it  needed 
it,  I  wear  it  all  the  time,  nothing  else.  I  wear  a  flannel 
garibaldi  to  save  the  waist  a  little  so  that  I  can  wear  it  to 
dinner.  My  red  poplin  does  for  the  morning,  but  it  is  al- 
most too  warm  now.  I  am  going  to  get  along  until  I  get 
to  Paris  for  my  trunk  is  now  too  full.  There  I  must  get 
some  summer  dresses.  ...  I  shall  devote  myself  to 
shopping  there  so  you  can  write  me  for  anything  you  want. 
.  .  .  We  shall  stay  here  till  next  Thursday,  then  go  to 
Lake  Maggiore,  take  the  steamer  to  Feriolo,  then  the  coach 
over  the  Simplon  Pass  to  Brieg  and  Sion,  rail  to  Martigny, 
and  thence  to  Chamonix,  where  we  shall  stay  a  week  and 
enjoy  Mt.  Blanc.  Thus  far  my  plans  are  quite  decided. 
.  .  .  By  the  way  I  had  my  photograph  taken  in  Milan. 
I  do  not  like  it  very  much  and  I  only  took  half  a  dozen, 
but  I  will  send  you  one  to  show  you  how  I  look  now.  I 
am  quite  well,  I  think  I  still  gain  flesh  and  strength,  the 


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last  I  know  I  do.  I  am  getting  as  brown  as  a  berry  and  as 
red  as  a  rose !  Miss  W.  has  a  mischievous  fit  upon  her  and 
is  writing  the  most  astonishingly  absurd  letter  to  the 
"Springfield  Republican",  giving  an  entirely  imaginary 
account  of  our  visit  to  the  tomb  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  She 
took  it  into  her  head  at  Milan,  and  I  can 't  get  it  out  of  her. 
I  assure  you  mine  is  the  authentic  account,  and  her's  is 
purely  and  absurdly  a  freak  of  the  imagination.  So  if  you 
see  it  do  not  for  a  moment  imagine  there  is  a  particle  of 
truth  in  it.  I  fear  she  will  only  make  it  too  absurd  for  she 
keeps  asking  me  for  suggestions,  and  together,  both  of  us 
being  in  a  frolicsome  mood,  we  have  hatched  up  the  most 
wonderful  story.  Just  wait  till  you  see  it.  She  has  got 
in  Mrs.  Knowles  whom  we  have  not  seen  for  five  months. 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  roses  that  grow  close  to  our  win- 
dow and  poke  their  red  faces  in  each  time  it  is  opened 
asking  us  most  saucily  to  pick  them.  There  is  the  greatest 
profusion  of  roses  about  the  house.  Red,  pink,  white  and 
yellow.  The  yellow  ones  are  like  our  cabbage  roses,  and 
are  the  hugest  things  I  ever  saw.  I  mean  to  try  to  get  a 
shoot  and  bring  it  home.  We  are  looking  forward  to 
Switzerland  with  eager  expectation,  and  can  hardly  wait 
for  the  first  of  June  to  come.  We  had  one  glimpse  of  the 
Alps  coming  here  from  Milan  and  it  was  lovely.  We  could 
not  see  Mt.  Blanc,  but  saw  all  the  rest  of  the  great  range 
with  their  snowy  peaks.     .     .     . 


JOURNAL 


Saturday,  May  26,  1866. 
We    left    Villa    d'Este    today    for    Varese    where    we 
changed  vehicles  and  reached  Laveno  where  we  took  the 
steamer  to  Baveno.    The  Lake  is  wonderfully  beautiful. 

Monday,  May  28,  1866. 
We  tumbled  out  of  bed  this  morning  at  two  o  'clock  and 
dressed  still  half  asleep,  got  into  a  "Supplement"  and 
drove  through  the  rain  to  Domo  d'Ossola  where  we  break- 
fasted.   We  then  went  on  to  Isella  and  entered  the  Gorge 


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of  Gondo;  just  at  the  entrance  was  the  stone  I  had  been 
looking  for,  a  plain  grey  stone  with  "Italia"  carved  on  it. 
I  waited  till  all  the  others  had  passed — we  were  walking — 
and  then  looked  long  at  it.  I  cannot  tell  just  how  I  felt ; 
sorry  and  sad,  yet  glad  to  feel  I  was  homeward  bound  at 
last.  Yet  Italy  has  become  very  dear.  I  picked  some  flow- 
ers from  about  the  stone,  and  oddly  enough  they  proved 
to  be  red,  white,  and  green,  the  Italian  colours.  The  Gorge 
was  exceedingly  grand,  it  was  like  what  we  call  a  Notch; 
the  mountains  rose  on  each  side,  straight  up  like  walls, 
leaving  only  a  strip  of  sky  to  be  seen  at  the  top.  The 
river  Dorena  rushed  roaring  through  the  Gorge,  and 
squeezed  between  it  and  the  wall  of  rock  Avas  the  road, 
sometimes  carried  through  tunnels,  under  cascades  and 
overhanging  rocks,  which  at  times  seemed  to  bar  all 
passage.  We  saw  the  Cascade  of  Frosinone,  a  mere  gauzy 
veil  above,  but  below  bounding  over  the  tunnel  through 
which  we  passed.  We  walked  about  four  miles  gathering 
the  wild  flowers  which  grew  in  astounding  profusion,  the 
meadows  were  really  a  mosaic  of  flowers.  From  the  Gorge 
we  ascended  rapidly  and  at  noon  reached  the  Simplon, 
where  we  lunched  on  horrid  tea,  and  thence  to  the  summit, 
a  mass  of  bare  bleak  rocks  and  snow.  The  top  is  a  hollow 
basin  round  the  inner  crest  of  which  the  road  winds.  The 
basin  full  of  snow  and  about  it  a  wall  of  hardened  snow 
and  ice.  It  was  nervous  work,  but  we  got  safe  through  to 
the  Hospice  where  several  St.  Bernard  dogs  came  rushing 
to  greet  us,  then  we  descended  to  pine  forests,  smiling 
valleys,  and  pretty  chalets,  reaching  Brieg  at  seven.  Here 
we  had  intended  spending  the  night  but  found  it  better 
to  go  on,  so  after  a  supper  of  tea,  bread  and  honey  we 
went  on  through  the  moonlit  valley,  our  four  white  horses 
galloping  bravely  and  we  reached  Sion  at  ten  and  Mar- 
tigny  at  eleven,  where  we  are  lodged  at  the  Grande  Maison. 
To  our  unspeakable  joy  we  found  nineteen  letters  waiting 
for  us,  so  we  sat  down  in  our  neat  room  to  enjoy  the 
greatest  of  all  a  traveller's  pleasures.  We  read  letters 
for  tAvo  hours. 


LETTER 

May  29,  1866. 
You  know  how  lovely  the  Alpine  flowers  are.    Some  of 
the  valleys  were  Arcadian  in  appearance.    But  the  dread- 


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fill  victims  of  goitre  and  cretinism  dismay  you.  The 
descent  was  most  grand,  the  pines  against  the  white  snow, 
the  sunny  meadows,  the  stone  cottages,  and  the  distant 
Alps  made  a  fine  prospect.  We  descended  quite  fast, 
reaching  Brieg  at  seven;  here  I  had  supposed  we  stopped 
for  the  night,  but  to  my  dismay  I  found  the  coach  went  on 
to  Sion,  and  if  we  stopped  we  must  wait  twenty-four  hours 
for  the  next  one.  With  our  letters  awaiting  us  at  Martigny 
(as  we  were  sure)  this  could  not  be  thought  of,  so  we  w6nt 
on.  Luckily  we  could  sleep  comfortably.  We  had  four 
white  horses,  and  they  looked  so  well,  cutting  along  the 
nice  level  road  through  the  valley  of  Sion.  The  descent 
ends  at  Brieg.  We  reached  Sion  at  ten  and  Martigny  at 
eleven,  oddly  enough  not  very  tired.  Our  frequent  little 
walks,  and  our  roomy  seats  had  prevented  much  fatigue. 
But  we  were  glad  of  beds,  and  slept  most  soundly  till  nine 
the  next  morning. 


JOURNAL 


Friday,  June  1. 
We  left  on  mules  for  Chamonix  today.  Just  as  we  left 
the  village  Adolphe's  saddle  gave  way  and  precipitated 
our  dignified  courier  on  to  his  back  where  he  lay  grasping 
frantically  his  umbrella,  his  hat  at  a  distance,  and  half 
the  village  rushing  to  his  rescue.  I  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing when  I  found  he  was  not  hurt  but  it  made  him  cross 
and  he  grumbled  all  day.  We  went  up  the  Forclaz  by  a 
series  of  zig-zags  and  reached  the  summit  very  hot.  From 
here  we  went  down  and  walked  three  or  four  miles  to  the 
Pass  of  the  Tete  Noire.  This  was  like  the  Gorge  of  Gondo 
only  finer.  The  steep  mountain  side  was  covered  with  a 
fine  forest  so  thick  that  hardly  a  ray  of  light  penetrated 
it.  We  lunched  and  rested  two  hours  at  the  Inn.  We  had 
a  very  nice  guide,  who  led  Miss  W.  's  horse  all  the  way  but 
I  led  the  file  alone.  My  mule  was  named  Lisa  and  a  good 
creature  she  was.  The  path  was  in  some  places  along 
frightful  precipices  and  the  mules  seemed  to  have  an 
especial  preference  for  the  outside  of  the  path.     Some- 


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times  we  met  a  flock  of  goats;  they  looked  very  pretty 
filing  up  the  narrow  path  with  a  peasant  boy  driving  them 
and  singing  a  Swiss  song.  Before  reaching  Argentiere  we 
passed  through  snow,  but  all  day  we  suffered  with  the  heat. 
We  at  last  saw  the  Glacier  d 'Argentiere.  In  the  town  we 
took  a  carriage  for  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  reached  Chamo- 
nix  and  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre  at  seven.  We  had  a  good 
supper  of  beefsteak,  bread,  tea  and  honey,  omelet  and  most 
delicious  fried  potatoes.  We  were  glad  to  go  to  bed  early 
after  having  a  look  at  Mont  Blanc  just  at  sunset.  He  had 
kept  his  head  covered  as  we  came  down  the  valley  but  the 
Aiguilles  were  very  fine  and  the  Mer  de  Glace  enchanting. 

Saturday,  June  2. 
We  spent  the  day  resting,  found  a  good  library  in  the 
hotel  and  at  sunset  had  a  lovely  view  of  Mont  Blanc  and 
the  Glacier  des  Bossons. 

Monday,  June  4. 
We  had  intended  going  up  the  Flegere  but  it  rained  all 
day  so  we  shopped  instead. 

Tuesday,  June  5. 
At  last  we  had  a  bright  fair  day  and  accomplished  our 
excursion  to  the  Flegere. 


LETTER 


From  Chamonix;  a  fragment.     June  6. 
The  Aiguilles  are  peaks  just  as  sharp  as  can  be  and 
really  almost  look  as  though  they  could  prick!  Mt.  Blanc 
is  a  king.    Indeed  it 's  true : 

Mt.  Blanc  is  the  monarch  of  mountains, 

And  they  crowned  him  long  ago. 

On  a  throne  of  rocks,  in  a  robe  of  clouds, 

AVith  a  diadem  of  snow. 

Round  his  waist  are  forests  traced 

And  an  avalanche  in  his  hand.     .     .     . 

It  is  white  from  summit  to  base.     The  glacier  streams 
down  the  mountain  side  and  looks  like  a  river  which  has 


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been  frozen  hard,  and  then  all  knocked  to  pieces,  and  the 
great  blocks  of  blue  ice  stand  up  and  glitter  in  the  sun. 
Monday  it  rained  so  that  we  could  not  go  out  or  even  see 
the  mountains,  so  covered  were  they  with  clouds.  But 
yesterday  was  perfect,  so  we  started  off  for  the  ' '  Flegere ' ', 
each  on  a  mule  with  a  guide  to  lead  each  of  them.  My 
beast  is  named  Lisa  and  it  is  funny  to  hear  the  guide  coax 
her  along,  and  flatter  her  and  scold  her  and  finish  by  giv- 
ing her  a  rousing  thwack  with  his  hand  and  say  "Allez, 
Lisa  Allez"! — and  Lisa  gives  a  tremendous  jerk  and  jumps 
up  two  or  three  rocks,  and  then  stands  still  again.  Well, 
it  was  quite  hot  and  we  soon  threw  off  cloaks  and  shawls. 
We  went  up  the  side  of  the  hill  in  a  zig-zag.  It  was  per- 
fectly awful  the  precipices  we  went  along  and  yet  I  never 
felt  the  least  fear.  One  mis-step  and  the  mule  would  have 
thrown  us  down  the  precipice,  I  cannot  tell  hov/  deep. 
Part  of  the  way  was  through  a  pine  forest.  Here  it  seemed 
so  cool  and  so  easy  to  walk  that  I  got  down  and  started 
off  bravely,  but  soon  found  that  though  the  path  was 
smooth,  my  breath  was  getting  short  and  my  heart  beat- 
ing very  fast,  and  yet  I  went  on  till  I  sat  down  to  rest 
a  moment  and  was  amazed  to  find  that  my  senses  were 
leaving  me  and  my  perception  of  things  about  me  was 
very  dim.  The  guide  put  my  shawl  under  my  head  and 
after  a  few  moments  I  got  over  the  faintness.  It  was  only 
my  old  trouble  of  congestion,  brought  on  by  walking  up 
hill.  In  ten  minutes  I  was  on  my  mule  as  well  as  ever 
and  after  a  ride  of  two  and  a  half  hours  we  reached  the 
top.  Oh!  the  view  was  superb,  Mt.  Blanc  rose  up  right 
regally  with  his  array  of  peaks  about  him,  and  the  Mer  de 
Glace  seemed  right  under  our  feet,  though  really  the  valley 
separated  us  from  it.  The  valley  Avas  a  perfect  jewel,  so 
sunny  and  green,  and  the  distant  shadows  were  so  blue  and 
transparent.  We  sat  down  near  the  chalet  on  the  summit 
under  a  great  wooden  cross  and  took  in  all  the  grandeur 
and  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  we  picked  the  gentians  and 
pretty  yellow,  white  and  blue  violets  and  a  purple  pansy 


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that  grows  here  wild.  When  we  started  back  it  looked  too 
awful  to  ride  down  that  almost  perpendicular  path  full  of 
stones  and  holes  and  I  said  I  meant  to  walk  at  least  part 
way.  It  was  a  different  thing  going  down.  I  walked  all 
the  way  and  never  felt  the  least  fatigue.  At  the  foot  I 
mounted  my  horse  and  rode  up  the  valley  to  the  hotel  as 
fresh  and  bright  as  when  I  started.  You  may  guess 
how  strong  I  am  when  I  can  ride  five  hours  two 
days  in  succession  and  then  feel  as  fresh  and  well 
as  possible.  Yesterday  we  rode  five  hours  going  to 
the  Flegere,  and  today  we  went  up  the  Montanvers, 
and  on  to  the  Mer  de  Glace.  Tomorrow  we  go  by 
dilligence  to  Geneva,  the  next  day  Lucerne,  where 
we  stay  three  days  and  ascend  the  Ehigi  and  see  all  the 
places  that  are  associated  with  Tell.  I  am  getting  as  sun 
burned  as  I  can  be  and  as  brown  as  an  Indian  and  Miss 
W.  says  I  never  looked  better.  I  wear  a  veil  all  the  time 
but  even  then  the  sun  burns  terribly.  My  hands  too  are 
brown,  I  do  not  know  if  you  would  recognize  your  sister. 
I  think  if  you  could  see  me  on  a  mule  bobbing  along  in 
most  ungraceful  fashion  (for  you  never  hold  the  reins  at 
all,  the  guide  leads  the  mule)  and  see  my  great  blue  barege 
veil  you  would  laugh!  I  drew  Miss  W.  today  so  you  can 
see  how  I  looked  from  that  when  I  get  home.  I  shall  write 
next  from  Lucerne. 


JOURNAL 


Wednesday,  June  6. 
We  started  at  nine  for  the  Montanvert,  same  guide, 
same  mules,  but  it  was  terrible !  Ten  times  worse  than  the 
Flegere.  Such  a  path !  I  dared  not  try  to  walk  again  and 
had  to  endure  the  tortures  of  nervousness.  Such  frightful 
precipices,  such  sloping  narrow  paths.  In  some  places 
there  were  great  banks  of  snow  which  looked  as  though  they 
might  slide  down  on  us,  and  the  mules  were  evidently 
afraid  of  them  also.  In  one  place  the  path  Avas  crumbling 
under  the  pressure  of  the  snow  and  gave  way  under  the 


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mule's  feet.  The  guides  were  as  good  as  gold  and  took 
excellent  care  of  us.  Toward  the  top  we  passed  through 
grand  forests  of  pine,  then  emerged  into  the  snow  regions. 
It  became  colder  and  colder  and  at  the  summit  was  very 
cold  and  wet.  We  rested  a  little  and  then  descended  to 
the  Mer  de  Glace.  The  guides  helped  us  down  the  moraine 
and  then  we  waded  through  snow  and  at  last  landed  on 
the  ice.  Oh!  the  glorious  blue  of  the  crevasses;  the  guide 
held  me  as  I  leaned  far  over  to  get  an  idea  of  the  immense 
depth  and  the  pure  blue.  Some  were  just  forming  and 
we  stepped  across  them.  We  walked  half  way  over  the 
glacier  and  back.  It  was  intensely  hot  on  the  ice.  I  be- 
came a  little  faint  with  the  climb  back,  and  sat  down  amid 
dust  and  gravel  and  rhododendrons  to  rest  while  my  good 
guide  picked  me  flowers.  Pretty  little  i^lpine  roses  and 
blue  bells  from  the  very  edge  of  the  glacier.  Then  we 
took  a  last  look  at  the  Mer  de  Glace  and  prepared  to  go 
down.  Miss  W.  mounted  her  mule  but  I  preferred  trust- 
ing to  my  own  two  feet  and  my  trusty  stick  and  walked 
all  the  way,  the  guide  showing  me  short  cuts.  The  valley 
of  Chamonix  was  bewitching.  There  were  such  cool  and 
transparent  blue  and  purple  shadows  and  the  emerald 
green  of  the  meadows,  the  pretty  chalets  and  the  musical 
ring  of  the  cow  bells  and  the  Ranz  des  Vaches  of  the  pretty 
peasant  girls  made  an  Arcadian  picture.  I  never  before 
so  realized  the  loveliness  of  transparent  shadows ;  the  valley 
and  hills  were  a  miracle  of  beauty. 

Thursday,  June  7. 
We  left  Chamonix  at  seven.  The  ride  was  all  beautiful, 
the  views  of  Mont  Blanc  growing  finer  and  finer  as  we  got 
farther  away.  From  among  the  pine  forests  it  loomed  so 
majestically  white.  ...  At  five  we  reached  Geneva 
and  the  Hotel  des  Bergues.  We  revelled  in  strawberries 
for  dinner. 

Friday,  June  8. 
We  left  by  train  for  Lucerne  and  Saturday,  June  9, 
rested  all  day  in  our  comfortable  hotel,  the  Sehweitzerhof. 

Sunday,  June  10. 
We  made  the  trip  iip  the  Lake  of  Lucerne ;  the  scenery 
was  lovely  the  Rhigi  rising  on  one  side  and  Pilatus  with 
its  uneasy  spirit  in  the  shape  of  an  angry  cloud  looming 


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on  the  other.  The  hills  rise  directly  from  the  clear  blue 
waters  of  the  Lake,  their  sides  dotted  with  neat  cottages 
and  chalets.  The  forests  slope  down  to  the  water's  edge 
and  lend  to  its  depths  their  own  fresh  green  colour.  The 
Bernese  Alps  rise  majestic,  the  Jungfrau,  Matterhorn, 
Sehreckhorn  and  Finster  Aahorn,  with  their  sharp  white 
peaks  piercing  the  blue  sky. 


LETTERS 

Cologne,  June  1,  1866. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  received  just  before  leaving  Lucerne,  your  letter  of 
the  25th  of  May.  .  .  .  We  left  Lucerne  on  Monday, 
without  ascending  the  Rhigi,  as  we  had  intended.  It  was 
intensely  hot  and  Miss  W.  had  a  bad  cold  and  I  did  not 
feel  very  strong,  so  we  gave  it  up  as  too  fatiguing.  We 
went  Monday  evening  to  Basle  which  we  reached  at  eight 

0  'clock,  and  there  spent  the  night.  The  next  day  at  ten  we 
left  Basle  for  Strasburg,  sending  our  trunks  on  to  Baden- 
Baden,  where  we  intended  to  spend  the  night.  We  reached 
Strasburg  at  twelve  and  went  at  once  to  the  Cathedral 
which  perfectly  delighted  us.  The  simplicity,  lightness  and 
elegance  of  the  spire  and  the  profuse  ornamentation  of  the 
body  of  the  building  are  incomparable.  There  is  much 
more  variety  of  design  than  at  Milan  where  one  tires  of 
seeing  the  same  thing  repeated  so  many  times.  I  think 
the  Strasburg  spire  the  most  perfect  we  have  seen.  The 
inside  was  no  less  perfect.  The  very  simplicity  of  every- 
thing on  yet  so  vast  a  scale  charms  the  eye  and  delights  it. 
The  pulpit  in  the  Nave  is  a  wonderful  piece  of  carving.  It 
has  the  delicacy  of  the  Swiss  wood  carving  and  the  sta- 
bility and  colour  of  stone.  In  one  of  the  choir  stalls  is  the 
stone  statue  of  the  architect  leaning  over  the  railing  and 
musing  on  his  work.    It  is  so  life-like  that  until  I  was  told 

1  supposed  it  was  one  of  the  priests.  The  windows  of 
stained  glass  are  unlike  any  I  have  before  seen.    The  great 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  107 

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Age   24 

rose  window  is  of  rich  dark  maroon  colour,  with  a  fine 
effect  and  all  the  others  have  an  exquisite  light  blue  ground 
with  Persian  patterns  for  the  borders.  .  .  .  The  clock 
is  curious,  we  saw  it  strike  the  half  houi',  but  one  cares 
little  for  such  things  when  there  is  that  glorious  spire  and 
those  beautiful  windows  to  look  at.  We  spent  an  hour 
and  a  half  there,  then  after  lunching  on  an  ice  cream,  for 
it  was  intensely  hot,  we  again  took  the  train  for  Baden- 
Baden.  At  Kehl  station  we  saw  such  a  very  curious  thing. 
A  stork's  nest  built  on  a  chimney  of  the  station.  It  was  a 
huge  nest  and  covered  the  whole  top  of  the  chimney.  The 
lower  part  of  the  nest  was  full  of  smaller  nests  in  and  out 
of  which  hundreds  of  swallows  were  flying  and  above,  the 
white  storks  were  walking  about.  One  of  them  seemed 
tipsy  and  was  dancing  about  the  nest  in  the  most  utterly 
ridiculous  manner  which  sent  me  off  into  fits  of  laughter. 
I  never  saw  anything  so  absurdly  awkward  as  that  long 
legged  creature  with  flapping  wings  dancing  about  the 
nest.  I  believe  the  Germans  regard  storks  superstitiously, 
and  think  they  bring  good  luck  to  a  house.  It  did  seem  a 
queer  place  for  them  to  have  selected,  the  chimney  of  a 
railway  station!  I  found  in  Strasburg  a  photograph  of 
this  very  stork's  nest  and  got  it  to  show  you.  From  the 
Rhine  Bridge  looking  back  we  got  a  lovely  view  of  the 
Cathedral  rising  amid  trees.  It  was  most  superb  as  it  stood 
up  against  a  clear  blue  sky.  They  say  the  architect  sold 
his  soul  to  the  Evil  One  for  the  design  of  the  Cathedral, 
so  perfect  is  it, — and  that  is  the  reason  why  it  never  gets 
completed.  I  hope  it  may  some  day  for  it  will  be  the 
grandest  piece  of  architecture  in  the  world  I  think.  We 
reached  Baden-Baden  in  the  evening  and  got  a  comfortable 
room  at  the  hotel  which  was  not  full,  the  season  not  having 
yet  begun.  Miss  W.  had  some  friends  here  so  she  sent  a 
note  to  them.  On  Thursday  Miss  McCracken  called — and 
later  she  and  her  brother  took  us  for  a  drive.  We  saw  the 
"Alice",  or  grand  promenade;  the  "Trinkhalle"  where 
they  drink  the  mineral  waters;  and  the  "Conversations- 


108  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

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Age  24 

Haus"  where  the  concerts  and  gambling  go  on.  This  is 
the  most  fashionable  watering  place  in  Europe,  and  yet 
quite  a  cheap  place  to  live,  and  all  sorts  of  people  come 
here  to  bathe,  to  drink  the  waters  and  to  gamble.  One 
reads  so  much  of  these  places  that  I  was  glad  to  see  it  all. 
The  band  was  playing  finely  and  people  were  eating  ices 
and  walking  about  while  in  the  rooms  the  gambling  went 
on.  We  glanced  in  but  it  seemed  only  small  play,  the 
stakes  seemed  to  be  small — but  it  was  interesting  to  watch 
the  different  faces.  Some  were  cool,  some  indifferent,  some 
so  desperate.  I  never  dreamed  of  looking  on  at  gaming, 
but  it  was  all  open  to  the  public  and  every  one  went 
through  and  about  the  rooms,  which  opened  into  the  con- 
cert rooms  and  were  most  beautifully  furnished.  Baden- 
Baden  is  a  very  pretty  place,  about  like  most  watering 
places.  I  did  not  taste  the  waters.  We  left  Baden  at  ten 
and  came  to  Heidelberg,  where  we  stopped  over  a  train  to 
see  the  castle.  We  took  a  carriage  as  we  had  not  much 
time,  and  drove  there,  and  as  you  have  seen  it  all  I  need 
not  describe  it.  We  were  most  delighted  with  it,  saw,  of 
course,  the  Great  Tun,  and  the  statue  of  the  King's  Jester, 
etc.,  just  as  you  had  told  us  about  since  we  were  little  chil- 
dren. I  do  not  think  the  pleasure  of  really  seeing  it  was 
half  as  great  as  the  pleasure  I  used  to  feel  when  you  told 
Arthur  and  me  those  stories.  But  it  increased  the  interest 
with  which  I  looked  at  it.  It  certainly  is  a  most  pic- 
turesque ruin.  The  ivy  is  very  beautiful,  draping  the 
walls  and  half  concealing  the  statues  of  the  grim  old 
knights,  Rupert  and  Rudolph,  who  frown  at  you  from  the 
niches  in  the  wall.  The  view  from  the  terrace  over  the 
Neckar  and  to  the  Rhine  is  very  beautiful.  We  lunched 
on  strawberries  which  are  ver}^  abundant  everywhere,  and 
then  took  the  train  reaching  Mayence  at  five  o  'clock,  where 
we  spent  the  night.  It  is  not  an  interesting  place.  They 
seemed  to  be  making  all  preparations  for  war,  as  the 
streets  were  full  of  soldiers  and  army  wagons.  The  next 
day,  yesterday,  we  left  at  ten  in  the  steamer  for  Cologne. 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  109 

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Age  24 

The  day  was  clear  and  warm  and  I  suppose  you  must 
know  how  beautiful  all  the  Rhine  scenery  is  from  Mayence 
to  Bonn.  We  passed  Bingen  and  the  Castle  of  Johannis- 
berg  where  the  celebrated  wine  of  that  name  is  made. 
Passed  Bishop  Hatto's  "Mouse  Tower",  the  story  of  which 
you  probably  know.  Here  the  river  narrows,  the  banks 
become  cliffs  and  mountains  and  every  peak  is  crowned 
with  a  ruin  or  a  castle.  Then  came  Stolzenfels,  which  is 
my  favourite.  We  have  a  view  of  it  in  the  stereoscope  at 
home  which  I  always  liked  exceedingly.  Then  Coblenz, 
with  its  fine  bridge,  and  opposite  it  the  fortress  of  Ehren- 
breitstein.  Here  we  learned  that  war  had  been  declared 
between  Russia  and  Austria  and  all  the  war  flags  were 
floating  from  every  tower  and  castle  and  bridge.  We 
passed  the  Rock  of  the  Lorelei,  the  great  black  cliff  with 
a  whirlpool  at  its  foot,  but  we  saw  no  water-sprite,  but 
then  it  was  mid-day;  had  it  been  sunset  or  twilight  we 
might  have  seen  her  combing  her  golden  hair. 

''With  a  comb  of  gold  she  combs  it. 
And  combing,  low  singeth  she, 
A  song  of  a  strange  wild  sadness 
A  wonderful  melody. 

The  sailor  pauses  as  o'er  him 
The  strain  comes  floating  by 
He  heeds  not  the  cliff  before  him 
He  only  looks  on  high. 

Ah !  round  him  the  black  waves  flinging 
Their  arms  draw  him  slowly  down 
And  this  with  her  wild  sweet  singing 
The  Lorelei  has  done." 

And  then  we  passed  Drachenfels,  rising  a  thousand 
feet  from  the  river,  with  its  ruined  castle  above  and  By- 
ron's lines  came  to  my  memory: 

"The  castled  crag  of  Drachenfels 
Frowns  o'er  the  wide  and  winding  Rhine 
Whose  breast  of  waters  broadly  swells 
Between  the  banks  which  bear  the  vine. ' ' 


110  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

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Age  24 

And  there  was  a  regular  down-east  Yankee  on  board 
who  amused  us  immensely  with  his  nasal  twang.  "Yaas 
that's  Lorly  that  is,  that  rock  there;  and  I  vow  that's  a 
nice  lookin'  castle,  just  look  at  them  glass  winders  will 
ye,  the  holes  is  quite  ancient  and  he's  jist  put  the  yaller 
glass  in!  Wall  now  that  was  a  real  smart  man  did  that, 
must  a  cost  a  sight  of  money  to  git  up  sich  an  anteek  look- 
ing castle,  I  guess ' ' !  This  is  as  I  took  it  down  verbatim. 
I  did  not  suppose  there  was  such  a  "raal  down  easter" 
afloat  as  this  man  was,  but  he  really  knew  every  rock  and 
castle  and  told  us  the  names  very  willingly.  We  reached 
Cologne  about  six.  It  is  not  a  pretty  city,  and  it  would 
take  all  Johann  Maria  Farina's  cologne  water  to  remove 
the  odours  from  the  streets.  Today  it  is  raining  hard,  but 
we  have  been  to  see  the  Cathedral  and  the  Rhine  bridge. 
The  Cathedral  does  not  impress  me  as  the  one  in  Stras- 
burg  did.  All  the  points  in  which  it  will,  when  completed, 
surpass  every  other  cathedral,  are  as  yet  unfinished.  The 
spires  are  not.  Only  the  body  of  the  church  is  done,  and 
there  are  so  many  tawdry  plaster  statues  that  it  takes  away 
from  the  grandness  of  the  effect.  But  the  arches,  the 
stained  glass  and  the  long  vista  of  the  nave  are  all  very 
fine.  When  it  is  finished  and  there  seems  to  be  some  pros- 
pect of  it  now,  it  will  indeed  be  a  grand  cathedral.  The 
war  really  seems  to  have  broken  out,  and  today  Adolphe 
says  they  are  tearing  up  railways,  etc.,  and  soon  will  come 
to  open  hostilities.  The  Elector  of  Saxony  has  run  away, 
so  has  another  Elector  whom  I  cannot  remember.  I  did 
not  see  the  papers  but  Adolphe  told  me.  We  have  not  had 
the  least  difficulty  in  travelling,  and  I  do  not  think  when 
the  war  really  begins  that  we  would  have  any  trouble  in 
Germany  and  Switzerland.  There  will  be  no  trouble  ex- 
cept at  the  actual  seat  of  war.  Switzerland  is  perfectly 
safe,  all  the  hostile  powers  having  promised  to  leave  her 
alone.  .  .  .  We  shall  return  the  last  of  July.  .  .  . 
We  are  quite  ready  to  come  home,  and  longing  for  the 
time  of  departure  to  come.    I  can  hardly  wait  till  the  last 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  111 

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Age   24 

of  July.  We  are  both  very  well,  I  especially.  We  shall  be 
in  Paris  about  two  weeks,  and  then  all  the  rest  of  the  time 
till  we  sail,  in  England.  With  warmest  love  to  all  at  home 
and  yourself,  most  lovingly 

Your  daughter, 

Emma, 

Paris,  July  3,  1866. 
My  Dear  Nettie: 

When  I  woke  this  morning,  I  thought,  this  is  Nettie's 
birthday  and  I  will  write  to  her,  so  this  evening  I  sit  down 
to  scratch  a  few  lines  after  a  rather  tiresome  but  pleasant 
day's  sight-seeing  and  visiting.  At  ten  this  morning  we 
went  in  the  train,  an  hour's  ride,  to  see  Mrs.  Jackson,  of 
Philadelphia.  She  had  invited  us  to  come  out  and  break- 
fast with  her  (at  her  brother's)  at  twelve  o'clock.  Mrs. 
Jackson  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  station  when  we  arrived 
at  St.  Germain,  and  first  we  saw  the  old  palace  where 
James  Second,  of  England,  and  Mary  d'Este,  his  wife, 
lived  when  they  were  exiled.  Then  the  church  where  his 
heart  is  buried  for  he  desired  it  saying  his  heart  had  al- 
ways been  at  St.  Germain  and  he  wished  it  buried  there. 
This  was  all  most  interesting  to  me.  Then  we  went  to  the 
house,  which  was  a  very  pretty  one,  quite  near  the  palace 
and  on  the  border  of  the  "plaisance"  or  royal  park.  We 
were  most  kindly  received  and  after  talking  a  long  time  we 
had  luncheon  consisting  of  first,  cutlets  and  potatoes ;  then 
fricassed  chicken  with  mushrooms;  then  strawberries  and 
sweet  curds,  and  cake,  eclairs,  and  sponge  drops;  and  then 
green  figs,  which  I  did  not  like,  and  coffee.  After  another 
long  chat  we  went  for  a  drive  in  the  forest  of  St.  Germain 
which  is  twelve  miles  long  and  all  laid  out  in  such  lovely 
drives.  The  roads  were  almost  overgrown  with  grass,  and 
the  trees  arched  over  our  heads,  and  it  Avas  all  so  green  and 
soft  and  lovely  and  quiet  that  we  were  quite  delighted. 
After  a  long  drive  we  returned  to  the  station  and  came 
home,  where  I  found  letters  from  Mother  and  Father  and 


112  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1866 
Age  24 

yourself,  of  June  18,  ...  July  4th,  here  is  my  letter 
unfinished  but  I  cannot  send  it  till  tomorrow,  when  I  shall 
write  to  Mother  also.  I  am  quite  well.  There  is  a  fete  to- 
day at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  in  honor  of  the  day,  but  I  am 
not  going.  I  shall  see  G.  H.,  which  is  better.  Et  maintenant 
il  faut  que  je  sorte  pour  chercher  la  robe  de  velours  vert 
de  Mademoiselle  Helen  E,  Je  vous  presente  mes  bons 
compliments,  soeur  bienaimee  et  je  vous  dis  adieu,  tout 
a  vous. 

Emma. 

London,  July  15,  1866. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

It  is  more  than  a  week,  I  find  to  my  amazement,  since 
I  wrote  you  last,  and  how  the  time  has  slipped  away  I 
do  not  know,  I  have  been  so  busy  I  have  not  had  time  to 
breathe.  We  got  all  our  shopping  done  last  Friday  and 
rested  on  Saturday.  ,  ,  .  We  spent  Sunday  quietly, 
only  going  to  the  Louvre  for  half  an  hour  to  see  the  lovely 
St.  Margaret,  and  in  the  evening  we  took  G.  a  little  drive 
and  on  our  way  saw  the  young  Prince  Imperial  riding, 
.  .  .  Monday  we  started  for  London  but  found  we  had 
made  a  mistake  in  the  hour  of  the  train  which  changes  to 
suit  the  tides.  So  we  left  all  our  luggage  at  the  station  for 
the  next  day,  and  went  back  to  Madame  Dynes',  As  we 
had  a  long  day  before  us  we  determined  to  do  some  sight- 
seeing. We  went  again  to  Notre  Dame  and  the  Ste. 
Chapelle,  and  afterwards  to  the  Luxembourg,  Palace  of  In- 
dustry, and  to  see  Delaroehe's  "Hemicycle  of  Art".  We 
left  Tuesday  morning  at  seven,  getting  up  at  five,  and 
reached  Calais  by  rail  at  one,  and  then  crossed  the  channel. 
It  was  rough  and  foggy,  but  I  was  not  the  least  sick,  which 
is  a  good  sign.  None  of  our  party  were  sick  but  most  of 
the  other  passengers  were,  and  it  was  perfectly  horrid  to 
see  people  lying  about  the  deck  and  on  the  floor,  on  the 
seats,  everywhere  and  the  stewards  rushing  about  with 
basins.     We  were  only  eighty  minutes  crossing  and  were 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  113 

1866 
Age  24 

glad  to  see  dear  old  England  again.  After  all  there  is  no 
place  in  Europe,  like  England.  Such  thorough  comfort 
and  cleanliness,  and,  oh !  the  delight  of  hearing  again  your 
own  language  (minus  h's!)  I  can't  tell  you  how  queer  it 
seemed,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  I  had  in  a  way  for- 
gotten how  to  speak  English,  that  is,  when  I  spoke  to  a 
porter  or  servant,  I  began  to  talk  French  and  was  momen- 
tarily amazed  to  hear  him  speak  English.  When  you  have 
been  for  eight  months  in  places  where  all  directions  and 
enquiries  must  be  in  French,  it  does  seem  so  odd  to  be  able 
to  speak  English  and  have  them  understand  you.  I  doubt 
if  Father  experienced  this  as  he  was  so  short  a  time  abroad, 
but  Miss  W.  feels  it  too  and  it  an^iises  us  much  to  catch 
ourselves  starting  a  French  sentence  and  ending  in  English. 
When  I  hear  the  people  talking  English  I  look  up  sur- 
prised for  a  moment,  and  it  seems  so  peculiar  to  hear  the 
children  talk  and  sing  in  English.  But  the  comfort  of  an 
English  hotel  and  English  life !  I  shall  never  get  over  my 
love  of  England  .  .  if  you  were  here  you  would  like  it 
I  know.  Madame  Zanchi  has  given  up  her  house  so  we  are 
at  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel,  a  very  nice  one,  adjoining  the 
railroad,  which  makes  it  convenient  and  not  as  expensive 
as  most  hotels,  though  they  are  all  dear  enough.  We  are 
in  the  fourth  story,  but  as  we  always  come  up  in  the  ele- 
vator, this  is  no  objection  and  it  lifts  us  a  little  above  the 
smoke. 

The  air  has  been  quite  clear  though  ever  since  we  came. 
.  .  .  Wednesday  went  to  the  banker's  and  to  see  the 
agent  about  our  staterooms.  He  has  given  us  beautiful 
ones  as  well  as  I  can  judge  by  the  plan  of  the  ship,  and  I 
hope  we  may  be  comfortable.  We  went  also  to  the  Na- 
tional Gallery  to  see  my  beloved  Turners  again.  Thurs- 
day the  R's  came  to  see  me.  .  .  .  We  also  went  shop- 
ping and  I  at  last  got  H.  E.'s  green  velvet.  I  looked  every- 
where for  it  in  Paris  and  could  not  get  what  I  wanted,  and 
here  I  found  it  right  away.  I  find  many  things  cheaper  here 
than  in  Paris.     .     .     .    We  went  to  Swan  &  Edgar's,  the 


114  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1866 
Age  24 

best  shop,  and  got  all  we  wanted.  I  got  twenty  yards  of 
the  best  Irish  linen  I  ever  saw.  I  know  you  will  admire  it, 
I  would  have  got  more  for  you  but  did  not  know  whether 
you  wanted  it.  I  also  got  a  blue  poplin  for  myself,  and 
some  Valenciennes  lace,  .  .  .  and  some  fine  swiss  chintz 
with  heads  of  dogs  and  cats  on  it  for  the  children.  They 
are  amazingly  pretty.  Now  all  my  shopping  is  done  and  I 
have  only  some  stockings  to  get  which  I  can  find  anywhere. 
Thursday  we  went  in  the  afternoon  to  the  Crystal  Palace 
at  Sydenham,  going  part  way  with  the  R's.  We  were  quite 
pleased  with  the  palace.  It  is  beautifully  situated  and  the 
grounds  are  fine.  The  interior  and  its  contents  we  much 
enjoyed  but  I  must  describe  them  after  I  get  home.  Yes- 
terday we  spent  a  long  day  in  the  country,  going  to  my  be- 
loved Hampton  Court  and  then  driving  to  Richmond  and 
coming  home  by  rail  from  there.  Hampton  was  as  lovely 
as  ever  and  I  admired  it  to  my  heart 's  content.  Richmond 
was  unspeakably  lovely;  I  never  saw  a  more  Arcadian 
view  than  that  up  the  Thames  from  Richmond  with 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland 's  villa  in  sight  and  the  ' '  Star 
and  Garter"  also.  I  was  not  at  all  tired  when  we  reached 
home,  and  had  an  appetite  for  dinner,  I  can  tell  you !  In 
the  evening  we  went  to  Madame  Tussaud's  wax  work  exhi- 
bition which  I  did  not  care  for.  Today  we  go  to  West- 
minster Abbey  immediately  after  breakfast  and  at  twelve 
to  Beckenham  to  spend  the  day  with  the  R's.  Tomorrow 
we  go  to  Windsor  Castle.  .  .  .Thursday  we  go  to  Ox- 
ford and  spend  the  day  there  and  thence  to  Warwick, 
Kenilworth,  Rugby,  Peterborough,  perhaps  Ely,  Haworth, 
York,  Lincoln,  Bolton,  and  Fountain's  Abbey  and  then  to 
Chester  and  Liverpool.  It  will  keep  me  awfully  busy  and 
we  must  travel  fast  but  I  hope  to  accomplish  it  all.  .  .  . 
I  am  anticipating  so  much  pleasure  in  this  trip.  I  have  so 
wanted  to  see  England.  No  place  is  so  intensely  interest- 
ing to  me.  I  wish  we  had  more  time  here.  But  even  for 
England  I  cannot  stay  longer,  I  want  to  get  home.     .     .     . 


1867 
Aee  25 


LETTERS  DURING  SECOND  SOJOURN  IN  EUROPE. 

''China,"  November  8,  1866. 
My  Own  Dearest  Mother: 

Don't  suppose  from  the  heading  of  my  letter  that  I 
have  arrived  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  I  am  only 
safe  and  well  on  the  good  ship  ' '  China. ' '  And  I  am  really 
well,  not  a  suspicion  yet  of  sea-sickness.  I  am  sipping 
some  soup  as  comfortably  as  can  be  while  I  write.  .  .  . 
It  seems  too  bad  that  you  cannot  get  this  letter  immediate- 
ly. We  shall  reach  Halifax  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon 
and  then  I  shall  enquire  how  soon  another  mail  returns  to 
New  York  or  Boston.  We  have  come  very  quickly  thus 
far,  having  favourable  winds  and  plenty  of  sails  set.  We 
are  told  that  we  go  right  up  to  the  wharf  at  Halifax  and 
all  can  land  and  we  will  probably  have  three  or  four  hours 
there.  We  shall  land,  go  to  the  post  office,  perhaps  dine 
and  see  the  town.  We  have  been  within  sight  of  land  all 
day  (Nova  Scotia).  I  do  not  know  if  it  looks  like  Scotland 
as  its  name  implies  but  it  certainly  looks  dreary  enough. 
After  all  it  is  a  delight  to  see  any  land  even  a  sand  bank ! 
We  had  a  smooth  day  yesterday,  so  warm  in  the  sun  that 
my  hood  was  too  warm.  I  staid  on  the  deck  all  day,  ate 
my  meals  with  some  relish,  and  slept  soundly  all  night. 


Rome,  January  22,  1867. 
My  Dear  R. : 

I  was  delighted  to  get  your  letter  a  few  days  ago, 
which  came  in  just  fifteen  days,  an  unusually  short  time. 


116  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

.  .  .  The  weather  has  cleared  and  become  perfectly  di- 
vine. "Warm  as  spring  and  with  clear  blue  skies,  and  bright 
sunshine.  Rome  is  as  lovely  a  place  as  exists,  I  think.  It 
is  a  perfect  luxury  to  walk  and  drive.  Since  we  came  to 
Rome  we  have  not  had  one  day  of  real  cold  weather.  I 
wear  my  velvet  cloak  always  with  no  furs  or  scarf  or  under 
jacket,  and  am  often  too  warm.  I  often  think  of  you  all  at 
home  freezing  in  snow  and  suffering  those  horrid  east  winds. 
.  .  .  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Weld  called  to  see  me  yesterday. 
They  leave  for  Naples  soon  but  do  not  return  to  America 
till  fall.  Every  one  seems  to  be  waiting  for  the  Great 
Exhibition,  and  then  intending  going  home.  ...  I  am 
taking  Italian  lessons,  but  it  is  of  a  lady  who  speaks  no 
English,  only  French  and  Italian,  and  I  find  it  very  diffi- 
cult. We  thought  at  first  it  was  the  best  way,  but  now  we 
intend  finding  a  teacher  who  speaks  English.  I  am  learn- 
ing to  understand  Italian  when  it  is  spoken  quite  easily 
and  I  have  of  course  learned  to  say  short  phrases  necessary 
with  the  servants,  but  I  find  it  hard  to  learn  to  converse. 
The  truth  is  I  do  not  like  the  Italian  language  and  never 
have.  German  I  adore;  I  could  learn  German  in  two 
months,  it  is  perfect  music  to  my  ears,  but  the  Italian  I  do 
not  like  and  never  shall.  ...  As  yet  there  are  fewer 
English  and  Americans  here  than  last  year,  but  I  presume 
by  Carnival-time  there  will  be  plenty  more.  They  have 
been  kept  away  by  fear  of  some  disturbance  here,  but  every- 
thing is  quiet  and  I  think  there  will  be  no  trouble  till 
March  or  April,  then  for  a  few  days  there  may  be  confusion 
and  some  trouble,  but  it  can 't  last  more  than  a  week  and  we 
shall  get  away  to  Naples  or  somewhere  till  it  is  over.  I  sub- 
scribe to  a  circulating  library  here  and  get  all  the  books  I 
want.  Just  now  I  am  re-reading  Prescott's  "Conquest  of 
Peru ' '.  Tell  G.  that  as  he  is  interested  in  the  history  of  the 
Cenci  family  he  may  like  to  know  that  one  of  our  friends  is 
Count  Bolognetti  Cenci.  He  is,  they  say  the  handsomest 
man  in  Italy.  He  is  certainly  very  handsome  and  very  nice 
and  speaks  English  a  little.     .     .     . 


LETTERS  117 

1867 
Age  25 

Naples,  May,  1867. 

I  wish  you  could  see  the  view  from  my  window  this 
clear,  lovely  afternoon.  The  waves  are  tumbling  in  over 
the  rocks  directly  under  my  window.  Out  beyond  stretches 
the  old  fortress,  Castel  dell'Uovo.  And  far  away  lie  Sor- 
rento and  Capri,  the  latter  looking  up  with  her  great 
sphinx  face  to  the  blue  sky.  Oh!  how  you  will  enjoy  all 
this  if  you  come  next  winter!  I  am  so  happy  in  the 
thought  that  it  is  just  possible.  Your  accounts  of  your  club 
meetings  are  most  interesting  to  me,  I  read  them  eagerly  to 
get  some  new  ideas.  I  see  so  little  current  literature  that 
I  feel  often  the  want  of  some  stimulus  and  your  club  often 
suggests  points  of  discussion  for  us,  or  points  of  specula- 
tion for  my  own  mind.  We  go  back  to  Rome  tomorrow. 
We  shall  feel  the  change  from  Naples,  there  is  so  much 
more  life  and  bustle  here  and  so  much  more  the  air  of 
freedom  and  liberality.  It  is  quite  delightful  to  hear  the 
newsboys  again.  In  Rome  one  never  sees  such  a  thing. 
Only  one  paper  is  published  in  Rome  and  that  a  poor 
church  one.  But  I  sincerely  hope  that  next  winter  there 
will  be  a  different  government  there.  I  can  say  so  freely 
here.  With  our  new  passports  however  we  are  quite  safe 
now  I  think.     .     .     . 

Rome,  . 

We  came  back  to  Naples  on  Saturday,  seeing  Pompeii 
by  the  way  and  stayed  Sunday  and  Monday  in  Naples  and 
Tuesday  came  here.  My  house  was  in  perfect  order  and 
everything  beautifully  prepared  by  Nanna,  who  was  glad 
enough  to  see  us.  We  had  been  away  three  weeks  instead  of 
one.  The  house  is  delightful  now.  Even  on  warm  days  it 
is  always  cool.  Being  moderately  high  up  we  always  have 
a  little  air,  and  I  keep  the  blinds  closed  during  the  warmer 
hours  and  so  it  is  just  as  cool  as  can  be.  Our  parlour  here 
has  little  sun  and  is  always  delightful.  .  .  .  Tomorrow 
morning  at  six  we  are  going  to  have  a  ride  on  horse-back. 
It  will  soon  be  too  warm  to  ride  at  all,  I  fear,  and  there 


118  LETTERS 

1867 
Age   25 

are  such  hosts  of  brigands  about  Rome  now,  I  am  afraid 
almost  all  the  brigands  have  been  driven  by  the  soldiers  of 
Victor  Emanuel  out  of  his  Neapolitan  dominions  and  into 
the  Papal  States  and  it  is  most  dangerous  to  ride  anywhere 
about  this  part  of  the  country.  So  tomorrow  we  propose 
just  to  ride  around  the  walls  from  Porta  del  Popolo  to 
Porta  San  Giovanni.  We  shall  stay  here  till  the  end  of 
June  in  order  to  be  here  on  the  29th  when  there  is  a  great 
ceremony  which  only  takes  place  once  in  a  century.  As  to 
Albano  we  do  not  care  to  go  there,  it  is  fashionable  and  ex- 
pensive, and  stupid,  and  we  can  be  here  much  more  com- 
fortable. There  is  no  danger  and  the  heat  does  not  become 
intense  until  July.  Then  we  shall  go  away.  We  have 
begun  to  dine  at  three  and  it  seems  so  funny;  before  we 
have  dined  at  seven.     .     .     . 

.  .  .  Saturday:  We  had  a  glorious  ride  this  morn- 
ing. At  five  and  a  half  we  had  coffee  in  bed,  then  dressed 
and  at  six  we  started  off,  took  a  turn  on  the  breezy  Pincio 
first,  then  galloped  outside  the  walls  from  St.  John  Lateran 
to  Porta  del  Popolo.  It  was  decidedly  fresh  and  cool.  The 
best  of  it  here  is  that  the  mornings  and  evenings  are  al- 
ways wonderfully  cool  and  if  one  knows  enough  to  avoid 
the  particular  moments  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  (no  danger 
of  the  first  for  me),  it  is  delightful.  We  rode  about  ten 
miles  and  I  did  not  meet  any  brigands.  .  .  .  We  went 
to  the  opera  last  night,  there  is  just  a  short  season  after 
Easter  till  June  and  we  have  an  eighth  night  box.  It  is 
not  as  good  as  in  the  winter  season,  still  I  enjoyed  it.  .  .  . 
I  wish  you  would  come  over  and  that  we  could  have  a 
month  in  Capri  together.  The  hotel  there  is  kept  by  an 
Englishman  and  is  so  delightful,  clean  and  cozy.  The 
rooms  are  my  ideal  of  nice  summer  rooms.  Floors  of  ma- 
jolica tiles,  rugs  before  the  beds,  clean  fine  linen,  and  lots 
of  towels,  delicious  plain  fare  but  substantial,  and  ex- 
quisitely cooked  in  the  English  way.  ...  I  must  close 
as  it  is  almost  mail  time. 


LETTERS  119 

1867 
Age  25 

Rome,  May  27,  1867. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Feeling  sure  that  the  afternoon  mail  would  bring  me  a 
letter  I  have  waited  for  it  to  begin  this,  that  I  might  have 
some  inspiration, — and  have  just  received  it.  I  am  sorry 
my  letters  reach  you  so  irregularly.  Since  I  came  to  Rome 
I  have  written  every  Tuesday.  ...  I  can  only  ac- 
count for  the  delay  by  supposing  they  go  one  week  by 
France,  the  next  by  England,  or  that  the  difficulty  is  here, 
one  steamer  one  week  going  to  Marseilles  the  other  stopping 
a  few  hours  at  Leghorn,  thus  losing  the  Atlantic  boat. 
.  .  .  Your  letters  to  me  come  as  regularly  as  the  sun 
rises,  and  most  thankful  am  I  for  it,  they  seem  to  come  now 
almost  always  by  a  French  steamer,  so  that  I  should  infer 

there  was  a  Havre  boat  each  week.     Mrs.  C tells  me 

there  are  fewer  people  than  were  expected  coming  to  the 
Exposition,  owing  perhaps  to  the  rise  in  price  of  passage. 
It  seems  to  me  that  they  should  not  have  raised  their  prices, 
the  Exposition  making  no  difference  in  the  expenses,  and 
that  they  should  rather  lower  their  rates.  The  "Great 
Eastern's"  passage  was,  I  hear,  quite  a  failure.  Here  they 
have  lowered  all  the  railway  fares  very  much,  and  the 
Marseilles  boats  decrease  their  usual  price  forty  per  cent. 
So  one  can  go  to  Paris  for  quite  a  reasonable  sum,  how- 
ever, we  do  not  care  to  go,  perferring  a  quiet  little  trip  in 
Umbria.  We  propose  to  leave  Rome  directly  after  St. 
Peter's  Day,  when  a  great  ceremonial  takes  place — that 
every  one  should  see.  .  .  .  The  preparations  are  very 
great  and  yet  they  strike  me  with  disgust  and  abhorrence 
of  the  way  in  which  the  poor  people  are  trampled  upon  and 
neglected.  For  instance,  there  is  a  certain  Church, — San 
Pietro  in  Montorio,  where  many  of  the  ceremonies  take 
place.  It  is  on  a  very  steep  hill  which  one  can  only  ascend 
on  foot  or  horseback.  A  road  to  this  church  and  to  the 
quarter  of  the  city  beyond  it  has  been  imperatively  needed 
by  the  people  for  a  long  time,  yet  the  Municipality  never 
dreamed  of  building  it.    Now,  however,  that  the  Pope  must 


120  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

go  to  this  church,  he  of  course  cannot  walk,  and  does  not 
like  to  ride  a  mule,  so  for  his  benefit,  for  this  one  day,  the 
road  is  being  rapidly  built.  The  people  might  have  wanted 
it  forever  and  not  had  it.  I  am  so  interested  in  public  mat- 
ters here  that  I  must  tell  you  a  little  of  them.  I  think  there 
is  no  danger  in  doing  this  and  will  risk  it.  You  must  know 
that  things  are  getting  worse  and  worse  here,  the  people 
hate  the  priests'  sway  more  and  more.  They  become  re- 
bellious under  it  and  will  stand  it  no  longer.  The  Pope'" 
temporal  power  must  go.  He  knows  it  and  the  priests  know 
it,  and  they  try  to. blind  the  poor  people  into  believing  it 
will  injure  them  when  it  does  go,  instead  of  being  a  new 
life  for  them  as  it  will  be.  Every  day  now  there  are 
prayers  in  the  churches,  sermons  by  fanatical  priests,  and 
processions,  to  pray  for  the  temporal  power  being  re- 
tained. But  the  people  are  not  blind,  the  blessed  day  is 
near  and  they  know  it.  I  cannot  tell  you  of  all  the  doings 
and  preparations  of  the  liberal  party.  The  future  will 
show.  I  can  tell  you,  however,  what  will  probably  be  the 
plan.  Already  at  Civita  Vecchia  and  its  vicinity  are  gath- 
ering bands  of  men  whom  the  Roman  papers  speak  of  as 
"Brigands,"  but  we  know  better.  Gradually  there  are 
collecting  there  the  "  Garibaldini, "  and  some  glad  day 
soon,  Italy's  saviour.  Garibaldi,  will  suddenly  put  himself 
at  their  head.  Thousands  will  flock  to  his  standard,  and 
he  will  march  on  Rome.  He  has  a  private  understanding 
with  Ricasoli,  the  prime  minister  of  Victor  Emanuel,  who 
will  assist  him  while  apparently  he  disapproves,  it  seems 
mean  but  he  dares  not  offend  the  Emperor  of  the  French 
by  an  open  recognition  of  Garibaldi's  movements.  Gari- 
baldi will  march  to  Rome  where  half  the  Pope's  army  will 
desert  at  once,  as  many  have  already  done,  and  the  people 
will  at  once  rise  up,  and  cry  out  for  Victor  Emanuel.  Then 
will  end  the  rule  of  priests,  then  will  fall  the  Pope's  Tem- 
poral Power,  and  a  better  life  open  for  Rome.  Victor 
Emanuel  will  come  and  be  acknowledged,  things  will  soon 
be  settled,  and  Rome  become  a  new  place.     All  this  will 


LETTERS  121 


1867 
Age  25 


come  soon,  autumn  will  see  things  settled,  I  think,  for  it 
will  be  only  a  matter  of  a  few  days,  I  hope  we  may  be  out 
of  Rome,  however,  when  it  happens.  I  can  tell  you  all  this 
because  everyone  here  knows  it.  Indeed,  I  strongly  sus- 
pect that  matters  are  under  consideration  between  the 
Pope  and  the  Italian  Government  that  will  lead  to  a  peace- 
ful settlement.  Anyway,  when  you  come  to  Rome  next 
winter  you  will  find  such  a  Rome  as  has  not  been  before. 
A  new  Rome.  Next  winter  is  looked  forward  to  by  all  as 
the  best  that  has  ever  been.  Strangers  will  flock  here  then. 
I  have  been  reading  a  book  lately  which  has  given  me  more 
insight  into  the  true  causes  of  contention,  into  the  wrongs 
of  the  people  and  the  hopes  they  indulge  in,  than  I  have 
found  anywhere  else.  It  is  ''Mademoiselle  Mori,"  and  if 
you  can  overcome  your  dislike  to  novels,  you  will  find  this 
a  most  instructive  book.  Under  the  guise  of  a  novel  it  is 
pure  history.  A  perfect  history  of  Roman  troubles,  of  the 
last  war,  with  simply  a  story  running  through  it  to  give  it 
connection.  It  has  aroused  all  my  interest  in  conditions 
here.  Since  I  wrote  last  there  is  little  to  chronicle.  We 
are  well,  and  happy  beyond  measure  in  the  prospect  of 
your  coming.  It  forms  the  chief  topic  of  conversation  and 
we  never  tire  of  making  plans  for  future  pleasure  when 
you  shall  be  with  us.  All  our  plans  tend  to  next  winter. 
Already  in  our  daily  walks  we  remark  all  the  "apparte- 
ments  meubles"  which  have  southern  exposures  and  good 
pure  air.  We  like  best  at  present— a  house  at  the  top  of  the 

Spanish  steps.    It  is  just  opposite  to  one  where  Aunt  A 

lived  when  in  Rome.  I  think  at  home  you  will  find  a  little 
card  photograph  of  the  Spanish  steps  and  the  Trinita  dei 
Monti,  and  it  is  possible  this  house  also  appears  in  the  pic- 
ture. There  are  several  other  houses  which  we  have  in 
view  and  be  assured  we  shall  choose  the  very  best  and  have 
a  garden,  if  possible,  for  your  amusement.  However,  there 
is  always  the  little  studio  garden  for  you,  and  there  is  even 
a  grape  vine  which  you  can  prune  and  trim  for  us.  At 
present  we  revel  in  flowers  and  the  garden  looks  like  a 


122  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

Pompeian  mosiac.  "We  have  roses,  convolvulus,  all  varieties, 
of  verbena,  some  splendid  ones,  hydrangeia,  pansies,  zinias, 
geraniums  in  abundance  of  the  fairest  species,  and  no  end 
of  other  flowers.  ...  It  is  such  a  sunny,  pretty  little 
place.  We  have  all  sorts  of  fruit  here  now.  Strawberries, 
wild  and  cultivated,  by  the  way,  the  wild  ones  are  the 
Alpine  species,  that  we  have  in  the  garden  at  home.  Cher- 
ries as  big  as  plums,  raspberries,  and  other  fruits  native  to 
Italy  and  that  we  in  America  do  not  know.  I  saw  a  pom- 
granate  tree  yesterday,  one  blaze  of  scarlet  glory  in  its 
magnificent  blossoms.  Peaches  are  about  as  large  as  wal- 
nuts, but  swelling  every  day.  They  have  strawberries  here 
till  October,  and  peaches  till  November  or  December. 
Pears  all  winter,  grapes  are  plentiful  as  dust,  and  of  great 
size  and  beauty  at  this  season.  The  weather  is  delicious. 
Unusually  cool  for  here,  indeed,  though  clear  last  week,  it 
was  so  pleasantly  cool  that  we  could  walk  at  any  hour  of 
the  day,  and  could  bear  a  wrap  in  the  evenings.  Yester- 
day we  walked  three  or  four  miles  in  the  country.  .  . 
The  first  of  July  we  propose  to  start  off  with  one  bag  which 
shall  contain  all  we  need,  and  go  into  Umbria,  travelling 
when  we  get  there  on  donkey  or  however  we  can  from  one 
village  to  another  visiting  all  the  old  castles  and  pictur- 
esque spots,  sketching,  painting  and  having  a  good  time. 
Our  furniture,  what  few  pieces  we  have  we  leave  in  the 
studio,  and  our  silver  at  the  Bank.  We  have  no  settled 
plan,  but  will  go  from  one  place  to  another  as  we  find  them 
interesting.  This  for  a  month  or  more,  then  if  we  still  feel 
inclined  to  rusticate,  go  to  Capri  and  spend  six  weeks 
more,  when  we  shall  come  back  with  the  first  cool  weather 
and  settle  our  house  for  your  arrival.     .     .     .     Love  to 

dear  Mother,  N ,  and  all  the  relations  at  home  and 

oceans  for  yourself  from  your  daughter  E. 

Dear  Father:  ^O"^^'  J^^^  21,  1867. 

.     .     .     We  are  having  cooler  weather  for  a  few  days. 
Today  is  cloudy  and  the  day  before  yesterday  was  the 


LETTERS  123 

1867 
Age   25 

same,  the  weather  clearing  yesterday  most  opportunely  for 
the  first  of  the  great  Feasts,  the  Corpus  Domini.  At  eight 
we  were  in  the  great  square  of  St.  Peter's,  and  had  ob- 
tained seats  in  the  Colonnade  through  which  the  procession 
passes.  By  looking  at  the  photograph  of  the  square  of  St. 
Peter's  you  will  see  how  the  ceremony  takes  place.  Be- 
tween the  two  ends  of  the  great  Colonnade  and  joining 
them,  a  temporary  covered  way  is  made,  of  columns  cov- 
ered with  white  cloth,  the  procession  leaving  the  Church 
passed  down  the  portico  to  the  Colonnade  and  so  under  it 
all  the  way  round  to  the  Church  again.  The  Colonnade 
having  three  parallel  passages,  the  procession  moves  in  the 
central  one,  the  widest,  the  people  are  in  the  others  to  look 
on.  We  got  good  seats  close  to  the  central  way,  so  that  we 
could  have  touched  the  Pope's  robes  as  he  passed.  At  eight 
A.  M.  the  road  was  strewn  with  palm  and  box  and  bay 
leaves,  which  sent  up  a  peculiar,  pleasant  odour  as  they 
were  crushed  under  the  feet.  Then  the  procession  appeared. 
First  a  long  line  of  friars,  priests  and  acolytes,  each  bear- 
ing a  candle  and  chanting.  Each  order  was  represented, 
Franciscans,  Dominicans,  Capuchins,  Carmelites,  and  Ca- 
maldolites.  These  lasted  half  an  hour,  then  appeared  the 
canons,  priests,  and  deacons  of  each  great  basilica — each 
bearing  a  candle  and  chanting.  Then  all  the  Monsignori, 
in  their  robes  of  purple,  silk  and  lace,  then  came  all  the 
bishops,  and  these  were  the  great  sight  for  many  were  for- 
eign, Greek,  Armenian,  and  even  Persian,  I  think.  Each 
was  followed  by  his  two  attendants,  who  bore  candles  or 
torches.  Their  robes  were  of  great  magnificence  .  .  . 
either  of  white  silk,  heavily  embroidered  with  flowers  and 
gold,  or  else  of  cloth  of  silver  which  is  very  rich,  many  of 
them  were  white  but  almost  solidly  embroidered  with  gold. 
The  Greeks  and  Armenians  were  the  most  magnificent. 
Such  fine  patriarchal  faces  some  of  them  had,  with  long 
white  beards  and  white  hair.  Others  had  dark  faces,  al- 
most black,  with  long  black  beards  and  stern,  almost  fierce 
faces.     These   great   bishops   wore   huge   mitres   of   gold. 


124  ■  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

studded  with  beautiful  gems,  and  their  robes  of  cloth  of 
silver  or  regal  brocade  were  one  blaze  of  jewels.     One  or 
two  wore  robes  of  India  eashmerei  of  brilliant  dyes  and 
really  eastern  magnificence  and  exquisite  fineness,  all  cov- 
ered with  minute  gems,  on  the  breast  being  a  huge  cross 
of  chased  gold  and  rich  jewels.     After  their  long  line, 
which  took  almost  an  hour  in  passing,  came  the  Senators 
of  Rome  in  their  robes.    Then  the  Cardinals  in  scarlet,  and 
last   of   all    and   nearest    the    Pope — Cardinal    Antonelli. 
Then  the  great  canopy  and  accompanying  fans  of  ostrich 
feathers  and  the  Pope  in  white  robes,  kneeling  before  the 
Host.    He  is  borne  on  a  white  draped  platform.    After  him 
came  the  Noble  Guard,  the  Swiss  and  Palatine  guard,  the 
soldiers,  zouaves,  and  lastly  the  cavalry.     Then  it  was  all 
over.    Of  course,  the  procession  was  much  longer  than  the 
distance  traversed,  so  that  the  first  friars  entered  the  church 
again  long  before  the  Pope  left  it.    It  was  a  most  magnifi- 
cent show  and  impressed  me  much,     ...     it  was  the 
most  imposing  pageant  I  had  ever  witnessed,   it   was  a 
scene  of  oriental  magnificence  and  a  revival  of  ancient 
pomp,  but  it  did  not  strike  me  as  a  religious  ceremony  at 
all.    To  us,  at  least,  it  seemed  a  mockery.    However,  I  al- 
ways enjoy  these  things  as  shows.    The  Easter  service  and 
the  "Miserere"  are  quite  different.     The  Easter  services 
with  all  their  pomp  go  to  one's  heart,  and  the  singing  of 
the  "Miserere"  is  moving  and  heart-touching.    Well,  with 
all  the  magnifienee  of  the  present  ceremony,   there  was 
some  amusement  in  it  also.    The  faces  of  the  participants 
were  no  end  of  fun.    Some  tried  to  look  unutterably  meek 
and  humble;  others  looked  so  pompous  it  was  laughable, 
and   some   looked   overcome   with   their   own   importance. 
These  were  all  the  friars  and  priests.     The  Bishops  and 
Monsignori  and  Cardinals,  of  course,  were  indifferent,  be- 
ing used  to  it,  and  applied  themselves  to  their  chanting  or 
walked  serenely  and  indifferently  on.    It  distressed  an  eco- 
nomical old  English  lady  near  me  to  see  how  carelessly  the 
acolytes  held  the  candles  and  how  the  tallow  was  allowed  to 


LETTERS  125 

1867 
Age  25 

drip  on  the  cloth  of  gold  and  brocade  robes  and  what  a  lot 
of  it  was  dropped  and  wasted  on  the  ground.  I  was 
amused  at  her  anxiety,  rather  loudly  expressed,  and  now 
and  then  a  grave  Bishop  or  other  prelate,  spying  us  and 
hearing  her  would  give  us  a  nod  or  half  smile.  Magnificent 
Cardinal  Antonelli,  when  he  saw  us  gave  us  a  very  know- 
ing and  pleasant  look,  a  very  familiar  gleam  in  the  corner 
of  his  eye.  The  Pope  looked  very  thin  and  sea-sick.  It  is 
said  he  is  always  sea-sick  when  carried  in  this  way  and 
this  was  a  very  trying  procession.  But  his  gentle  sweet 
face  can  never  look  anything  but  good.  I  never  see  him 
but  I  am  more  and  more  forcibly  struck  with  his  great  re- 
semblance to  Grandfather  Huidekoper,  and  it  always  gives 
me  a  start  and  a  thrill  when  I  first  glance  at  his  face.  I 
know  you  will  be  struck  by  it,  it  is  so  forcible.  It  is  enough 
to  overcome  one  entirely,  as  it  did  me  the  first  time  I  saw 
it.  After  the  ceremony  was  over  everyone  walked  up  and 
down  the  Colonnade  and  chatted  with  their  friends,  and 
we,  meeting  some  Florentine  friends,  Count  M.  and  his 
wife,  took  a  walk  all  about  with  them  and  then  came  home. 
The  next  Feast  is  on  the  29th,  St.  Peter's  Day;  then  the 
30th,  St.  Paul's  Day;  and  then  the  Canonisations.  We 
shall  leave  Rome  on  the  31st  or  1st.  Tonight  is  a  great 
illumination,  it  being  the  anniversary  of  the  Pope 's  Coron- 
ation. The  city  is  as  full  as  it  can  hold  of  priests,  bishops, 
etc.  They  come  by  the  tons.  8,000  persons  arrived  the 
other  night.  Every  day  there  is  a  grand  procession  from 
some  church  or  other.  The  cooler  weather  is  a  great  bless- 
ing as  it  is  much  more  comfortable  and  more  healthy.  I 
believe  there  have  been  two  or  three  cases  of  cholera,  but 
the  general  health  is  good,  and  no  fears  are  entertained. 
We  have  given  up  cream,  milk,  custard,  and  vegetables  as 
a  precaution,  and  live  on  delicious  beef  and  mutton  and 
chicken  and  soup,  the  only  wholesome  foods  in  the  summer. 
I  never  ate  better  or  as  good  meat  as  we  have  here.  In 
the  country  we  can  eat  more  fruit;  in  the  city  now  it  is 
hardly  wholesome.    But  we  had  some  delicious  apricots  the 


126  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

other  day  and  the  cook  is  going  to  preserve  some  for  the 
winter.  We  went  to  such  a  funny  theatre  the  other  after- 
noon. It  is  the  Mausoleum  of  Augustus,  which  has  been 
made  into  an  open  air  theatre.  It  is  like  an  ampitheatre, 
open  above.  The  play  begins  at  five  in  the  afternoon,  every 
one  smokes  who  wishes  to,  there  is  no  dress,  the  actors  are 
good.  The  plays  are  excellent  comedies,  and  it  is  very 
pleasant.  By  eight  o'clock  it  is  over.  We  quite  enjoyed  it. 
Seated  places  are  fifteen  cents  apiece,  or  if  one  chooses  to 
stand  one  pays  five  cents.  Here  in  Rome  no  play  can  be 
produced  without  first  being  inspected  by  the  Govern- 
ment, and  they  allow  only  good  and  proper  ones  so  that  in 
all  Rome  one  will  not  find  a  bad  play.  It  is  quite  a  pleas- 
ant thing  to  go  at  five,  sit  in  the  evening  coolness,  and  yet 
be  home  before  the  chill  of  sunset.  I  can  understand  the 
play  pretty  well  now,  and  can  speak  with  more  ease,  though 
I  do  not  attempt  lengthened  conversation  in  Italian.  It 
seems  so  strange  to  hear  you  speak  of  peas  only  a  finger 
high !  Here  we  have  had  them  three  months,  nay  more, 
since  the  first  of  March,  and  are  quite  tired  of  them  now! 
Strawberries  we  had  the  first  of  April  and  still  have  them. 
Peaches  we  will  have  in  a  month.  ...  I  met  my  old 
courier  Adolphe  yesterday,  he  is  now  travelling  with  Mrs. 

Gov.  S and  her  sister.     He  looked  in  good  condition, 

as  usual.  It  was  such  a  reminder  of  old  times  to  see  his 
familiar  face.  Love  to  all  the  dear  ones  at  home,  much  for 
yourself  from  your  loving  daughter, 

Emma. 

Extract  from  letter  to  R.  H.  B.  from  Rome,  June  26, 
1867. 

Among  novels,  let  me  tell  you  two  or  three  which  you 
may  not  have  read.  ' ' Manistone 's  Housekeeper,"  "Made- 
moiselle Mori,"  Thackeray's  "Newcomes, "  Mrs.  Gaskell's 
"Ruth"  and  her  "Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte."  "Made^ 
moiselle  Mori"  is  delightful  and  will  give  you  the  best  idea 
of  life  in  Rome.     I  was  entranced  by  it.     Thackeray's 


LETTERS  127 

1867 
Age  25 

' '  Newcomes ' '  I  always  read  once  a  year,  and  Bulwer  's  ' '  My 
Novel."  Mrs.  Gaskell's  "Ruth"  I  daresay  you  have  read. 
I  have  just  read  it  now  for  the  first  time  and  think  it  a 
noble  book.  I  like  her  "North  and  South"  so  much. 
"Charlotte  Bronte's  Life"  I  read  twice  or  three  times  a 
year,  and  enjoy  it  as  much  the  twentieth  time  as  the  first, 
even  more,  I  think.  If  I  believed  in  the  transmigration  of 
souls,  I  should  feel  that  in  a  former  existence  I  was  some 
kin  to  her.  I  love  her,  I  adore  her,  I  think  if  I  had  ever 
known  her  I  should  have  gone  and  been  her  servant,  her 
cook,  anything  to  live  with  her,  and  this  is  not  derived  from 
her  works  but  from  her  life  which  I  think  was  so  noble. 
When  I  went  to  Haworth  last  year,  I  would  willingly  have 
taken  up  my  abode  there  for  ever,  bleak  and  desolate  as 
it  is. 

Rome,  July  3,  1867. 
My  Dear  N. : 

Contrary  to  all  our  expectations  we  find  ourselves  still 
in  Rome  today !  I  will  explain  why.  Monday,  the  first,  we 
left  our  house  as  we  had  agreed  to,  and,  oh!  wasn't  I  busy 
all  the  morning,  packing  up  things  and  sending  them  to  the 
studio.  By  twelve  all  our  possessions  were  stowed  aAvay. 
Then  Signora  Teresa  and  her  advocate  came  to  take  the  con- 
signment of  the  rooms,  all  the  things,  from  cup  and  plate 
to  bed  and  table  had  to  be  gone  over  to  see  that  everything 
was  there  and  right ;  one  plate  and  one  cup  were  gone,  that 
was  all,  and  by  two  o'clock  all  was  over  and  we  bade  good- 
bye to  our  winter  home.  However,  we  only  went  to  the 
next  room,  let  by  another  woman  which  we  took  till  we 
should  leave  on  Wednesday,  Tuesday  we  were  busy  all 
day,  settling  bills  and  finishing  some  last  affairs,  expecting 
to  leave  today  (Wednesday)  in  the  diligence  for  Bracciano. 
This  morning  we  were  all  ready  to  go  and  take  our  places 
in  the  coach  when  as  we  were  going  down  stairs,  we  met 
Count  Frenfanelli,  who,  when  he  heard  we  were  going,  said, 
"I  advise  you  not  to  go  to  Bracciano,  unless  you  like  to 


128  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

run  the  chance  of  meeting  Brigands ! ' '  Well,  we  inquired 
further  and  we  found  that  there  was  no  great  danger,  but 
a  chance,  and  that  chance  would  make  us  anxious,  and 
spoil  all  our  pleasure,  so  we  came  back  and  go  tomorrow  by 
train.  It  was  too  late  to  get  the  train  today,  and  I  am  not 
sorry  as  it  gives  me  the  chance  to  send  you  a  birthday 
letter.  Many  happy  returns  of  the  day,  my  dear  little  sis- 
ter ;  what  a  young  lady  you  are  getting  to  be !  Let  me  see, 
you  are  fifteen,  are  you  not?  I  am  not  good  at  remember- 
ing ages,  you  know.  I  hope  next  year  we  shall  be  together 
to  celebrate  it.  Our  plan  is  now  changed  and  we  give  up 
Bracciano,  its  Lake  and  fine  Castle  till  safer  times,  and  go 
to  Borghetto  by  train,  thence  to  Civita  Castellana,  and  to 
Nepi,  and  after  that,  I  do  not  know.  We  have  a  big  bed- 
room here  next  to  our  old  one  and  Nanna  remains  to  wait 
on  us.  I  have  promised  to  pay  her  three  dollars  a  month 
this  summer  while  we  are  away  if  she  will  come  back  to  us 
next  winter.  We  take  our  dinner  at  a  restaurant,  and 
Nanna  prepares  tea  and  breakfast.  You  should  see  our 
preparations  for  our  summer  ramble.  Bags  and  sketching 
things,  and  a  pound  of  tea  and  no  end  of  books  and  writing 
materials.     .     .     . 

Civita  Castellana,  July  5. 
We  came  to  this  pretty  place  yesterday.  We  said  good- 
bye to  Rome  and  left  at  eleven  in  a  slow  train  for  Bor- 
ghetto, an  hour's  ride  by  express  train,  but  between  deten- 
tions and  stopping  at  stations  to  get  cool  and  talk  and 
drink,  we  were  four  hours!  The  scenery  was  lovely.  I 
have  not  seen  this  before  in  summer,  it  has  been  winter  or 
early  spring  when  I  went  over  the  road  before.  At  Bor- 
ghetto there  was  such  a  lovely  old  ruined  Castle:  there 
we  got  a  little  funny  pony  and  buggy  with  driver  and  the 
way  the  horse  went  was  amusing.  He  shook  his  ears  and 
his  bells  and  tossed  his  head  and  galloped  up  hill  and  down 
like  mad.  The  country  was  lovely,  it  looked  a  little  like 
England,  so  green  and  well  cultivated,  dotted  with  fine 


LETTERS  129 

1867 
Age  25 

oaks  and  great  pastures  filled  with  cattle.  In  an  hour  we 
reached  here.  The  situation  of  the  town  is  most  peculiar, 
a  great  ravine,  very  narrow  and  about  600  feet  high  with 
precipitous  sides,  and  a  little  stream  below,  entirely  sur- 
rounds the  town  which  stands  in  the  middle  of  a  kind  of 
plateau,  just  big  enough  for  the  city.  The  approach  is  by 
a  great  bridge  built  on  arches  over  the  ravine  with  a  gate- 
way guarded.  This  is  the  only  approach  to  the  town,  save 
by  a  narrow  and  dangerous  path  leading  down  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  ravine.  There  is  an  old  citadel  built  by  Alex- 
ander Borgia  and  finished  by  Pope  Julius  II  which  is  now 
however  only  kept  as  a  prison  for  brigands.  We  went 
over  it  this  morning.  It  is  very  strong  and  seems  to  me  an 
almost  impregnable  position.  There  is  an  old  cathedral 
which  we  have  also  seen.  The  houses  are  as  picturesque  as 
can  be.  The  air  is  cool  and  fine.  This  afternoon  we  will 
ride  to  see  ruins  of  the  ancient  town  of  Falerium,  four 
miles  from  here.  No.  strangers  ever  come  here,  and  the  inn 
where  we  are  is  an  old  rambling  place,  and  our  room  and 
two  or  three  others  are  the  only  furnished  ones.     .     .     . 

Viterbo,  July  13,  1867. 
Dear  R. : 

It  is  more  than  two  weeks  since  I  wrote  you  but  I  have 
been  so  busy  leaving  Rome  and  moving  about  that  it  has 
been  impossible  to  write  before.  Now  we  are  settled  here 
for  a  week  and  glad  I  am  to  have  leisure  to  write,  mend 
my  clothes  and  have  washing  done.  "VVe  like  this  place  very 
much,  good  air,  cool  and  fresh  weather,  nice  old  town  with 
plenty  of  subjects  for  sketching,  too  many  almost,  we  hard- 
ly know  which  to  choose.  I  wish  you  could  come  here  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind,  for  a  little  while.  There  are  excel- 
lent baths  close  to  the  town,  iron  and  sulphur,  we  mean  to 
try  them  tomorrow.  The  first  days  of  our  trip  were  not 
very  pleasant.  Breaking  up  in  Rome,  getting  ready  to 
leave,  and  then  fairly  starting  are  never  agreeable.  Nepi 
and  Ronciglione  were  not  very  comfortable.     But  now  we 


130  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

are  all  right  and  as  merry  and  happy  as  can  be.  We  have 
a  nice  cozy  room  on  the  Piazza,  good  plain  food,  and  nice 
waiters,  and  all  so  wonderfully  cheap.  The  place  being 
not  on  the  railway,  and  not  much  frequented,  makes  it 
cheaper.  However,  it  is  a  large  place,  16,000  inhabitants 
and  in  the  summer  a  good  many  people  come  for  the  baths. 
Our  room  is  forty  cents  a  day,  and  meals  and  everything 
else  included  forty  cents  for  each  of  us,  so  that  our  whole 
expense  is  $1.20  a  day,  and  twenty  cents  for  tea  at  the  cafe. 
For  breakfast,  we  have  coffee  with  eggs,  as  at  home,  nice 
bread  and  toasted  rusk;  dinner  at  two,  soup  or  macaroni, 
boiled  meat  and  a  roast,  dessert  and  fruit.  At  the  cafe, 
coffee,  an  ice,  rusk  and  cake,  ten  cents  each !  It  is  a  mys- 
tery to  me  how  they  give  it.  How  they  can  give  us  dinner, 
breakfast,  service,  lights,  wine  and  all  for  forty  cents  each 
I  cannot  understand.  After  we  leave  here  we  go  to  Orvieto, 
Chiusi,  Cortona,  Arezzo  and  Urbino,  thence  to  Pesaro, 
Sinigaglia,  Rimini,  and  just  possibly  to  Ravenna,  returning 
by  Bologna  and  Florence.  We  did  not  think  to  go  further 
than  Urbino,  but  hearing  of  the  interest  of  Rimini,  and 
Ravenna  we  are  tempted  there,  and  Murray  describes  the 
annual  fair  at  Sinigaglia  as  so  curious  and  interesting  that 
we  may  go  there.  If  you  have  a  Central  Italy  Murray,  you 
can  read  his  description  of  it.  Our  plans  are  never  very 
certain,  or  rather  we  do  not  make  any,  only  where  the  spirit 
moves  us  there  we  go.  We  have  changed  our  plans  twice 
since  we  left  Rome  already.  Here  we  are  only  twelve  hours 
from  Rome  by  diligence,  so  I  can  get  my  letters  easily  and 
this  morning  I  sent  to  Count  G.  to  send  me  my  Northern 
Italy  Murray.  We  have  several  friends  here.  The  Minis- 
ter of  the  Census  is  here  just  now  and  he  has  shown  us  all 
the  best  places.  Count  Colacichi  and  other  young  men 
are  here  and  we  have  great  fun  at  table.     .     .     . 

My  Dear  Mother:  ^^^^'  J^^^  ^1'  1^^'^- 

.     .     .     The  Fair  at  Sinigaglia  was  a  great  humbug. 
Murray  is  about  as  much  to  be  trusted  in  some  things  as  a 


LETTEES  131 

1867 

Age  25 

newspaper  advertisement.  He  goes  into  ecstasies  over  some 
hotel  or  inn  or  fair,  and  when  you  see  it  it  is  below  par.  I 
think  of  writing  a  commentary  on  Murray  and  between  bad 
hotels,  poor  fairs,  wretched  baths,  and  "picturesque  gothic 
castles",  which  never  existed  save  in  his  own  fancy,  I 
could  make  a  large  addition  to  his  book.  Here  we  are  mod- 
erately comfortable,  and  it  suits  our  purses  to  stay  a  week. 
The  sea  bathing  is  delicious  and  makes  one  feel  strong  and 
vigorous.  Fano,  however,  is  a  newish  place  with  nothing 
interesting  to  paint,  and  after  the  daily  bath  there  is 
nothing  whatever  to  do  but  read,  read,  read,  and  write  and 
Avalk.  I  have  nearly  finished  my  supply  of  books  and  when 
I  get  out  must  send  to  Florence  for  two  or  three  more,  for 
without  books  I  am  utterly  lost !  The  air  here  is  delicious, 
a  cool  sea  breeze  all  the  day,  and  the  sea  view  is  lovely. 
We  have  given  up  Rimini  and  Ravenna  as  we  find  it  im- 
possible, so  go  right  from  here  to  Urbino.  .  .  .  Your 
nice  long  letter  so  full  of  news  was  a  perfect  treat.  Oh! 
how  I  long  to  see  home,  no  words  can  tell !  Your  descrip- 
tion of  Auntie's  visit  was  so  nice,  I  wanted  to  be  there  so 
much  to  have  long  quiet  morning  talks,  and  afternoon 
walks  with  you  and  her.  How  I  used  to  enjoy  her  visits. 
My  dearest  love  to  her  if  she  is  still  with  you  when  this 
letter  reaches  you.  Oh !  how  long  it  takes  for  letters  to 
come  and  go.  Blessed  winter  when  we  shall  be  together 
again.  I  can  hardly  wait,  dear  Mother,  for  the  moment 
that  will  re-unite  us.  .  .  .  What  walks  we  will  have 
next  winter,  not  through  snow  and  slush,  with  half  frozen 
feet,  but  in  the  warm  sunshine,  in  green  villas  and  flowery 
gardens.  We  have  fine  grapes  now  though  they  are  not 
considered  fit  to  eat  here.  We  shall  not  go  back  to  Rome 
to  stay  till  all  danger  of  the  cholera  is  over.  The  first  of 
September  we  can  go  and  settle  about  the  house,  and  then 
if  it  is  still  not  healthy  go  to  some  quiet  country  place  until 
it  is,  or  until  you  arrive.  I  shall  have  the  house  all  pre- 
pared and  settled  before  you  arrive.     .     .     . 


132  LETTEKS 

1867 
Age  25 

Urbino,  August  15,  1867. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

I  went  over  to  the  Ducal  Palace  yesterday  morning 
with  my  pen  and  paper  to  write  you  there,  but  I  did  not 
succeed,  there  was  so  much  to  look  at,  and  watching  O. 
paint  was  so  fascinating  that  I  gave  up,  the  more  quickly 
that  there  was  no  table  to  write  on.  Oh !  what  a  shame  it 
is  to  see  a  grand  palace  like  that  so  badly  kept.  Sometime 
in  the  12th  Century,  Urbino  and  its  dukedom  was  acquired 
by  the  House  of  Montefeltro.  Later,  in  the  15th  Century, 
lived  Duke  Federigo  da  Montefeltro,  a  noble  and  good  man, 
fond  of  all  intellectual  pursuits,  and  noted  for  his  encour- 
agement of  the  fine  arts,  education  and  all  noble  callings. 
His  son  Guidobaldo  was  even  more  worthy  of  respect.  He 
built  the  present  palace,  than  which  there  is  no  finer  in 
Italy,  the  decorations  are  the  most  exquisite  I  ever  saw.  Just 
imagine,  every  window  has  a  frieze  all  around  it  and  this 
frieze  is  carved  into  the  finest  designs.  Heads  and  flowers 
and  vines ;  arms  and  armour,  and  every  conceivable  device. 
Every  window  unlike  the  others — the  whole  done  with  such 
delicacy  that  you  feel  inclined  to  pick  up  the  delicate  flow- 
ers and  leaves.  The  doors  are  all  inlaid  in  great  figure  and 
flower  designs.  The  mantel-piece — but  you  will  see  the 
picture  0.  is  making  of  one.  Guidobaldo  lived  in 
Raphael's  time  and  he  gathered  to  his  Court  here  all  the 
poets  and  artists  and  men  of  letters  of  the  day,  and  did  all 
the  good  he  possibly  could,  his  wife,  the  Duchess  Isabella 
Gonzaga,  was  just  as  noble  as  he.  They  went  to  England 
once  and  King  Henry  VII  gave  Guidobaldo  the  Order  of 
the  Garter.  So  this  palace  that  he  made  so  grand  was  a 
great  interest  to  everyone.  But  now,  alas !  all  is  well  nigh 
a  ruin.  It  went  from  the  Montefeltro  to  their  relations, 
the  Delia  Rovere  family.  Pope  Julius  II,  who  was  such  a 
patron  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  was  a  Delia  Rovere. 
Then  at  last  the  all  grasping  Church  wanted  it  and  asked 
the  Rovere  family  for  it  and  they  declined,  but  at  last  they 
had  to  give  it  up  and  it  passed  to  the  Holy  See.     Since 


LETTEES  133 

1867 
Age  25 

then  the  Pope's  Legate  or  Governor  of  the  Province  of 
Urbino  and  Pesaro  has  always  lived  here.  Seven  years  ago 
it  was  Monsignor  Badia,  a  kind  friend  of  ours.  He  was  fol- 
lowed by  another,  who  was  the  last,  for  now  it  belongs  to 
Victor  Emanuel  and  a  part  of  it  is  used  for  a  prison !  and 
part  for  offices,  etc.  The  grand  old  salons  are  papered  with 
hideous  modern  papers  which  look  shockingly  beside  the 
beautiful  doors  and  windows  and  chimney-pieces,  and  the 
fine  frescoed  and  vaulted  ceilings.  All  the  splendid  old 
furniture  and  tapestries  were  burnt  or  sold  long  ago,  not 
a  thing  remains.  Murray  says  that  a  few  years  ago  an  old 
tapestry  remained,  made  in  1320,  representing  one  of  the 
Dukes  on  a  hunting  trip.  It  is  not  there  now,  but  listen ! — 
we  were  asking  the  old  custodian  if  there  were  any  old 
rubbish  left,  and  he  said  he  had  somewhere  some  old  rags 
of  tapestry  which  he  would  hunt  up.  So  yesterday  we  went 
to  see  the  "old  rags" — and  there  was  the  identical  "Duke 
on  a  Hawking  Expedition."  It  has  two  holes,  but  small 
ones,  and  is  otherwise  in  good  condition.  The  old  man  had 
it  stuffed  away  in  a  cellar,  and  does  not  think  it 
is  good  for  anything!  For  its  association  it  is  invalu- 
able, ...  I  hope  we  can  get  it  for  a  few  dollars  and 
then  won 't  we  have  a  treasure !  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
get  old  tapestry  now  at  all.  .  .  ,  We  are  very  content- 
ed here  and  very  well.  The  mountain  air  gives  us  such 
good  appetites,  you  would  be  frightened  at  what  Ave  eat. 
At  eight  we  have  coffee  and  bread;  at  twelve  breakfast  of 
soup,  beefsteak  and  fruit,  at  six  dinner  of  soup,  two  kinds 
of  meat,  vegetables,  dessert  fruit  and  coffee,  and  we  get  so 
utterly  ravenous  that  we  can  hardly  wait  for  meal  times. 
.  .  .  I  am  getting  fat  again !  At  Fano  and  Pesaro  I  got 
a  little  thin.  It  is  astonishing  how  I  change ! — One  morn- 
ing my  face  will  be  thin,  the  next  plump  and  fat !  It  is  all 
in  the  air.  Now  my  cheeks  are  hard  and  I  am  strong  and 
vigorous,  and  as  the  weather  gets  cooler  I  shall  get  fatter 
every  day !  The  weather  has  been  very  warm  for  the  last 
few  days  and  we  long  for  coolness,  not  that  we  suffer  in 


134  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

the  least  up  here,  but  the  cooler  weather  will  be  much  more 
healthy,  and  put  an  end  to  this  awful  cholera.    I  presume 
you  will  read  in  the  papers  of  the  horrible  prevalence  of 
it  in  Rome  and  the  great  shock  of  it  at  Albano.     ...     It 
is  a  fashionable  resort — Albano  in  the  summer,  there  were 
crowds  of  people  there,  now  hear  what  happened.    Wednes- 
day night  the  six  thousand  regular  inhabitants  and  the 
four  thousand  visitors,  were  all  well  and  thought  them- 
selves secure  in  their  airy,  healthy  town.     At  the  Ave 
Maria,  eight  o'clock  one  person  died  with  cholera  in  a  ma- 
lignant form.    At  nine  o'clock  seven  more  were  taken.    At 
midnight,    thirty-five   persons.     In   the   morning,    eighty- 
seven.    By  evening,  two  hundred  were  dead.    Among  these, 
the  old  Queen  of  Naples  and  two  children,  the  Princess 
Colonna,  the  Marchesa  Serlupi,  and  no  end  of  others.     In 
Rome  the  Duke  of  Sermoneta,  Don  Michele  Graetani,  a  man 
of  great  intellect,  the  best  and  noblest  name  in  Rome,  very 
philanthropic,  he  will  be  sadly  missed.    One  of  the  Princes 
Rospigliosi  and  Cardinal  Altieri  also  died.    The  latter  had 
gone  to  Albano  to  help  the  sick,  he  took  the  disease  and  died 
there.    The  poor  Princess  Colonna  we  mourn  much,  a  good 
mother,  a  noble  woman,  a  kind  friend  and  she  and  her 
daughter,   Bianca,   are  dead.     It  was  an  awful  sight  in 
Albano,  people  fell  down  in  the  street,  suddenly  stricken  by 
the  fell  disease,  and  there  died  before  they  could  be  lifted 
into  the  house.    One  beautiful  friend  of  ours  fell  dead  on 
the  steps  of  her  house.     The  wildest  fright  followed,  every 
one  rushed  away,  some  to  Ariccia,  a  town  close  to  Albano, 
only  separated  by  a  great  valley  spanned  by  a  viaduct.  But 
the  people  of  Ariccia  barricaded  the  viaduct  and  would  let 
no  one  enter  the  town  to  infect  it.    Then  the  poor  refugees 
fled  to  Velletri,  there  the  people  closed  the  gates  and  fired 
on  any  one  who  approached ;  to  Rocca  di  Papa,  and  the 
people  stoned  them  away,  so  they  rushed  to  Rome,  some  by 
rail,   some  in  carriages,  wagons,   donkeys,   anything  they 
could  find,  the  most  part  on  foot  (18  miles)  and  many  fell 
down  on  the  way  and  died.    Rome  was  again  infected  and 


LETTEES  135 

1867 
Age  25 

hundreds  died.  Poor  Princess  Colonna,  fleeing  to  Genzano, 
died  on  the  way.  Many  among  our  friends  are  dead.  They 
could  not  bury  the  bodies  in  Albano.  Two  brave  regiments 
of  Zouaves  went  there,  and  in  seven  hours  buried  250  per- 
sons. Only  six  hundred  of  the  ten  thousand  people  re- 
mained in  Albano  on  Friday.  The  disease  does  not  abate 
in  Rome,  The  Government  conceals  it  and  says,  about 
thirty  cases  a  day,  when  there  are  a  hundred  and  fifty  a 
day !  It  has  appeared  in  many  of  the  Italian  cities,  Parma, 
Modena,  Bologna,  Milan,  all  have  some  cases.  When  the 
first  news  came  from  Albano  I  confess  I  was  alarmed,  but 
on  consideration  was  quieted.  We  are  in  as  safe  a  place  as 
can  be  found  in  Italy,  I  think.  We  are  up  on  a  mountain, 
isolated  entirely,  far  from  railways,  twelve  miles  from  any 
other  town.  Being  so  out  of  the  way,  nobody  thinks  of 
coming  here,  we  are  twenty-three  miles  from  Pesaro,  the 
nearest  railway  station,  and  sixty  miles  from  Arezzo  or 
Foligno  on  the  other  side.  Any  one  coming  into  the  town 
is  fumigated.  We  have  pure  air  and  healthful  food.  We 
live  on  meat  and  are  very  sparing  of  fruit  and  hope  to  con- 
tinue as  safe  as  now.  ...  I  did  wish  the  other  day  we 
were  in  Switzerland,  but  I  see  one  case  of  cholera  has  ap- 
peared in  Zurich.  Still  I  would  not  object  to  being  at 
Chamonix!  ...  I  doubt  it  spreads  much  more,  as  in 
a  week  or  two  the  weather  must  be  cooler,  and  the  first  of 
September  the  rains  begin  and  then  all  is  safe.  Of  course, 
we  shall  not  think  of  returning  to  Rome  till  every  trace  of 
cholera  has  disappeared  there.  So  Mother  dear  do  not  be 
a  particle  anxious,  we  are  as  safe  as  can  possibly  be.  I 
cannot  help  believing  that  cholera  arises  from  improper 
food.  Physicians  say  it  does  not,  and  that  the  cause  is  un- 
known, but  I  have  ahvays  noticed  it  appears  in  cities  where 
meat  may  be  tainted  and  fruit  over-ripe  in  the  market. 
In  Albano,  I  thoroughly  believe  that  some  too-old  meat, 
some  over-ripe  fruit,  some  bad  vegetables  were  generally 
sold  in  the  market,  and  those  who  unconsciously  ate  of 
them  were  made  sick.     The  malignity  of  course  depends 


136  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

upon  other  things.  They  say  the  strong  are  much  more  apt 
to  die  than  the  weak.  I  think  also  it  may  be  infectious  to 
those  inclined  to  take  diseases  and  those  who  are  much 
afraid,  and  this  accounts  for  its  spread.  We  keep  our 
stomachs  strong,  eat  fresh  meat,  and  exercise  abundantlj'-, 
and  what  more  can  anyone  do  ?  But  enough  of  these  hor- 
rors, I  have  said  too  much  now. 

The  great  drawback  to  the  delights  of  Urbino  is  its  hells 
(not  belles!).  You  never  heard  such  an  incessant  clanging. 
It  is  enough  to  drive  one  distracted.  The  people  hate  it, 
too,  and  asked  the  Governor  to  stop  it,  but  the  old  Bishop 
said  it  could  not  be.  Some  selfish  old  fellow,  many  years 
dead,  left  some  money  to  have  a  certain  bell  rung  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  steadily  every  day  at  sunrise.  Now 
this  bell  is  directly  opposite  our  window,  and  the  Castle 
Bastions  and  our  house  keep  all  the  sound  in,  and  the  oscil- 
lation is  awful.  The  first  mornings  we  wakened,  of  course; 
and  nearly  went  mad  over  it.  Since,  we  have  sometimes 
slept  through  it,  but  not  often.  We  shut  and  bar  the 
blinds,  the  windows,  the  shutters,  but  to  no  purpose;  that 
maddening  ding-dong  comes  through  it  all.  Then  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  some  bell  is  ringing,  then  two  ring  to- 
gether, then  all  strike  up  in  chorus,  and  off  they  go  for  fif- 
teen minutes,  and  this  horrid,  spiteful  one  opposite,  always 
gives  a  few  strokes  extra  after  the  others  stop !  It  is  un- 
bearable and  that  man's  soul  instead  of  getting  peace, 
ought  to  be  doomed  to  listen  to  eternal  bell  ringing  in 
Limbo,  I  am  sure.  .  ,  .  Our  friends  in  Rome  are  very 
kind  in  writing  to  us,  Galeotti,  Angelini,  Lanciani,  give  us 
all  the  news.  I  was  afraid  the  letters  would  bring  cholera, 
and  suggested  it,  but  I  was  so  laughed  at  I  dropped  the 
idea.  Nevertheless,  we  put  the  letters  out  of  the  window 
and  fumigate  them !     .     .     . 

My  Dear  Father:  Urbino,  August  27,  1867. 

Not  having  heard  again  from  home  since  I  last  wrote, 
I  have  omitted  thus  far  my  weekly  letter,  but  it  seems  so 


LETTERS  137 

1867 
Age   25 

strange  not  to  write  that  I  begin  this  letter  to  send  to 
Havre  or  Rouen.  ...  I  hope  to  have  a  letter  from  you 
this  evening  telling  me  certainly  at  what  time  you  sail. 
.     .     .     I  received  a  few  days  since  a  letter  from  Cousin 

G from  Harlingen.     She  says  they  read  in  the  papers 

of  engagements  at  Viterbo,  between  Garibaldi  and  the 
Papal  troops.  This  report  is  entirely  unfounded,  no  sus- 
picion of  an  engagement  has  there  been.  Garibaldi  went  to 
Siena  for  health  and  pleasure  and  intended  going  to  Or- 
vieto,  but  has  given  that  up.  All  is  quiet.  The  clerical 
party  of  Rome,  who  are  cowardly,  are,  it  is  true,  fright- 
ened, and  seeing  that  indubitably  Rome  must  come  into 
the  hands  of  the  Liberals  sometime,  they  are  trying  to  sell 
all  the  church  property,  and  realize  on  it  before  it  is  lost  to 
them  forever.  My  opinion  is  that  the  affair  will  be  settled 
by  agreement  without  any  bloodshed,  or  if  there  is  any  at 
all  it   will  not  be  in   Rome,   but  on   the  papal   frontier. 

.     .     .     We  hear  that  our  friend,  Count  G ,  has  left 

Rome  suddenly  for  Florence.  The  police  dogged  his  foot- 
steps so,  they  gave  him  no  peace,  so  he  escaped  while 
escape  was  possible,  from  the  clutches  of  the  Papal  Police 
to  a  more  liberal  country.  Being  a  Liberal  and  a  Floren- 
tine, he  would  be  suspected  anyway,  but  I  think  he  has  also 
reported  sometimes  to  the  Italian  Government,  and  his  hav- 
ing fought  with  Garibaldi  is  another  point  against  him.  I 
am  told  by  someone  here  who  has  lived  in  Chamonix  that 
the  Simplon  Pass  is  open  all  the  year  round,  so  you  must 
by  all  means  come  that  way.  It  is  infinitely  preferable  to 
the  Mt.  Cenis.  From  Chamonix,  go  by  the  Tete  Noire  to 
Martigny,  or  else  return  to  Geneva,  take  the  railroad  round 
the  Lake,  seeing  Chillon,  to  Sion,  and  then  the  diligence 
over  the  Simplon  to  Baveno.  .  .  .  Baveno  is  a  most 
lovely  place,  we  spent  a  Sunday  there.  The  Lake  is  en- 
chanting, the  Isola  Bella  is  opposite  and  all  the  views  are 
lovely  and  the  hotel  good.  Then  take  the  steamer  or  dili- 
gence to  Arona  and  the  rail  to  Milan,  where  I  should  advise 
you  to  stay  at  the  Hotel  Cavour,  a  clean,  new  delightful 


138  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

hotel  out  of  the  noisy  part  of  the  city,  just  opposite  the 
new  Park  where  there  are  nice  walks.  ...  I  have  seen 
no  nicer  hotel  in  all  Italy  than  this  one.  At  Geneva  the  best 
hotel  is  the  Hotel  des  Bergues.  At  Chamonix  I  think  we 
staid  at  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  it  was  clean,  had  a  good 
table  and  good  attendance.  In  Milan,  at  the  Brera  Gallery, 
notice  particularly  a  little  picture  in  the  Dutch  style,  which 
is  not  mentioned  by  Murray.  It  is  in  one  of  the  far  rooms, 
beyond  the  ones  of  old  pictures,  where  there  are  several  fine 
modern  landscapes.  The  little  picture  I  refer  to  represents 
an  old  man  before  a  kitchen  fire  and  a  little  girl  leaning 
thoughtfully  against  his  chair.  It  struck  me  as  quite 
lovely. 

We  are  still  well  content  here.  The  weather  is  cooler 
the  last  days  and  we  enjoy  it  much.  This  is  a  very  quiet, 
dull  place  and  you  will  laugh  to  hear  that  a  hand  organ  and 
a  monkey,  or  a  mountebank  performance  is  quite  an  event 
and  by  no  means  to  be  despised  by  us !  We  are  easily  con- 
tented. Tomorrow  a  fair  begins,  which  lasts  two  days.  It 
is  nothing  remarkable,  about  six  or  seven  thousand  people 
usually  attend,  chiefly  peasants  who  come  to  lay  in  autumn 
supplies,  and  there  is  a  good  show  of  cattle.  We  really 
shall  enjoy  a  little  life !  Florence,  or  even  Rome,  will  seem 
violently  gay  to  us  after  our  summer  rustication.  The  air 
here  is  really  unusually  good,  and  we  have  enormous  appe- 
tites. I  have  several  pets,  a  fine  dog,  to  whom  I  have  be- 
come so  much  attached  I  shall  not  like  to  leave  him.  He  is 
of  the  ' '  lion  dog ' '  breed,  but  shaved  save  his  head,  tail  and 
frills  on  his  legs.  He  looks  just  like  a  Lord  Chancellor  in 
his  wig,  and  has  great  brown  intelligent  eyes.  He  was  at 
first  utterly  disdainful  of  us  till  assured  of  our  respecta- 
bility, and  now  goes  everywhere  with  us,  especially  me  he 
favours  as  I  play  with  him  to  his  heart's  content.  .  .  . 
I  have  also  a  matronly  cat  and  two  kittens  for  in-door  pets, 
a  green  parrot  over  the  way  to  whom  I  chatter,  and  a  mon- 
key round  the  corner  whom  I  go  and  look  at  frequently. 


LETTERS  139 

1867 
Age  25 

Urbino,  August  31,  1867. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

Last  night  I  was  made  happy  by  receiving  your  letter 
and  Father's  of  the  8th  of  May.  It  was  two  weeks  I  had 
not  heard  and  I  was  in  a  state  of  feverish  anxiety  to  know 
really  when  you  would  sail.  .  .  ,  You  will  not  receive 
my  last  letter  home  in  which  I  poured  out  all  my  joy  at  the 
thought  of  your  possibly  sailing  the  31st,  and  now  it  is  veri- 
fied, and  today  you  will  set  sail.  You  will  feel  it  dear 
Mother,  it  is  always  hard  to  leave  one's  beloved  country, 
whoever  you  may  be  going  to  meet,  and  you  leave  home  and 
hosts  of  dear  ones  to  come  away  here  and  see  one  daughter. 
Her  heart  is  grateful  for  it  and  what  love  can  do  to  make 
you  happy  will  be  done.  To  think  that  in  ten  days  you  will 
be  in  Europe !    I  can  scarcely  realize  it ! 

Fano,  September  7,  1867. 
My  Dearest  Mother : 

One  more  letter  I  write  before  we  reach  Rome.  We  left 
Urbino  yesterday  morning,  at  the  very  inconvenient  hour 
of  four  A.  M.  The  diligence  leaves  at  that  hour,  there  was 
no  other  public  conveyance  and  a  private  carriage  costs  so 
much,  that  we  had  to  take  it.  The  air  of  Urbino  is  not  con- 
ducive to  sleep  ever,  and  the  bells  of  which  I  have  spoken 
are  truly  awful.  At  one  o  'clock  the  mail  courier  starts  from 
the  stable  under  our  room,  a  swearing,  shouting,  and  sing- 
ing of  ostlers  ensues,  a  kicking  of  horses,  a  rattle  of  wheels, 
and  he  dashes  out  and  down  the  long  paved  street.  At 
midnight  an  inane  clock  strikes,  but  not  content  with  strik- 
ing one  "12"  it  repeats  the  twelve  strokes  four  times,  for 
what  reason  no  mortal  can  tell !  At  half  past  three,  ostlers, 
horses,  etc.  again,  with  rattling  off  of  diligences.  At  five 
the  infernal  bell  of  the  Duomo  rings  for  half  an  hour,  just 
over  our  window,  some  wretched  man  having  left  at  his 
death  years  ago  a  sum  of  money  to  pay  for  this  bell  being 
rung  three  times  a  day  for  the  repose  of  his  soul!  Well, 
after  a  month's  pleasant  stay  at  Urbino,  we  were  ready  to 


140  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

leave,  but  the  last  night  sleep  deserted  us  and  I,  at  least, 
never  closed  my  eyes  all  night  and  at  four  I  rose,  weary, 
nervous,  with  aching  eyes  and  head.  No  breakfast  to  keep 
us  up,  and  five  hours  ride  before  us.  I  became  somewhat 
sea-sick  and  no  wonder.  When  we  landed  from  the  coach 
in  the  Piazza  of  Pesaro  two  more  pale,  wretched  looking 
shadows  you  never  saw.  A  good  hot  omelette  and  coffee 
put  more  life  in  us  but  I  felt  awfully  sick  still.  We  got 
our  collection  of  antiquities,  consisting  of  a  cassone  and  two 
old  chairs,  sent  off  by  slow  freight,  and  were  rather  pleased 
to  find  that  for  four  francs  it  could  go  all  the  way  to  Rome, 
and  cheap  it  was  for  the  cassone  was  very  heavy.  Then  we 
took  the  train  for  this  place,  which  we  reached  in  twenty 
minutes,  and  after  leaving  our  bags  at  the  hotel  rushed  off 
for  a  bath.  Most  reviving  and  refreshing  it  was  to  plunge 
into  the  blue  water,  the  day  was  hot  and  the  water  a  de- 
lightful temperature.  After  dinner  I  went  to  sleep  and 
slept  five  hours  to  make  up  for  the  night's  deficiency,  and 
another  sound  sleep  last  night  made  the  account  square.  No 
bells  to  waken  one  made  an  agreeable  addition  to  one's  rest. 
Today  I  feel  bright  and  well  and  we  have  had  another  sea 
bath.  Monday  we  will  go  to  Rome,  reaching  there  at  nine 
in  the  evening.  There  is  no  danger  now  as  we  learn  to 
our  satisfaction  that  three  days  since  there  were  only  six- 
teen cases  of  cholera.  ...  I  shall  watch  most  eagerly 
for  the  arrival  of  the  "Fulton"  which  will  be  announced 
in  Galignani.  Then  await  your  letter  deciding  about 
Switzerland.  It  takes  three  days  for  a  letter  from  Paris 
to  Rome,  sometimes  four.  As  soon  as  we  hear,  we  are  all 
ready  to  go  or  to  wait  as  you  decide.  I  hope  you  will  have 
received  the  two  letters  I  sent  you  from  Urbino,  the  one  to 
Brest,  the  other  to  Rouen.     .     .     , 

Fano,  September  9,  1867. 
Dear  Mother: 

You  will  be  surprised  to  see  that  we  are  still  here,  I 
assure  you  it  is  very  much  against  our  wills,  but  unfortu- 


LETTERS  141 

1867 
Age  25 

nately  on  Saturday  afternoon,  just  after  I  wrote  you,  I 
felt  very  ill  and  have  since  been  in  bed.  I  think  it  was  the 
heat,  the  change  of  air  and  the  two  sea  baths!  An  old 
granny  of  a  doctor  was  called  in  who  has  dosed  me  and 
prescribed  camomile  and  tamarind !  I  do  hate  these  Italian 
doctors  with  their  ideas  of  a  century  ago!  His  methods 
have  weakened  me  dreadfully  and  I  refused  to  continue 
them  and  in  consequence  feel  much  better  today,  in  fact, 
quite  like  myself.  I  really  hate  Fano,  a  more  nasty  hotel, 
slovenly  servants,  bad  food,  I  never  saw.  We  hope  to  be  in 
Rome  by  tomorrow  night,  and  I  will  write  you  again  on 
Thursday.  .  .  .  Today  I  think  it  possible  you  may  reach 
Brest  and  tomorrow  land.  What  joy  it  is  to  me  to  think 
of  it !  How  glad  you  will  be  to  see  land.  I  do  not  believe 
these  last  ten  days  will  have  been  longer  to  you  than  to  me. 
Every  day  seems  an  age  till  I  see  you.  I  shall  be  so  glad 
to  see  Rome  again,  too.  It  will  seem  so  like  home  after  this 
horrid  place.  Then,  too,  I  shall  have  some  nice  butter  to 
eat,  a  thing  I  have  not  tasted  for  two  long  months.  In  this 
benighted  country  they  never  have  butter  in  the  summer! 
Then  bread  I  have  hardly  tasted  for  the  same  length  of 
time,  and  shall  so  enjoy  Mrs.  Muller's  delicious  bread  and 
butter,  I  think  I  shall  eat  nothing  else !  I  hope,  too,  we  shall 
find  letters  in  Rome,  your  last  from  home.  How  eagerly  I 
shall  look  in  the  papers  for  the  ' '  Fulton 's ' '  arrival.     .     .     . 

Rome,  September  12,  1867. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  reached  here  safely  on  Tuesday  evening  at  nine, 
after  a  long  journey  of  fourteen  hours,  much  less  fatigued, 
however,  than  I  thought  to  be.  We  left  Fano  at  7:30  A. 
M.  and  had  an  hour's  trip  to  Falconara,  where  we  had  an 
hour  to  wait.  Then  five  hours  to  Foligno,  where  they  gave 
us  fifteen  minutes  for  dinner,  and  then  dragged  along 
slowly  to  Rome.  It  is  rather  provoking  to  be  so  hurried 
for  dinner  and  then  to  stop  fifteen  minutes  at  every  little 
trifling  station  afterward.  The  train  was  woefully  slow  and 


142  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

we  reached  Rome  only  at  nine  P.  M.,  having  been  seven 
hours  on  the  road  which  a  direct  train  does  in  five  hours. 
Glad  enough  we  were  to  see  the  lights  of  Rome  and  to  drive 
through  her  familiar  streets  after  two  months  of  rambling. 
Deserted  and  forlorn  they  looked  to  be  sure,  and  the  palace 
all  shut  up  and  dark,  was  not  cheerful,  but  the  portiere 
welcomed  us  and  gave  me  your  letter  of  the  22nd  of 
August,  and  the  room  we  occupied  before  we  left  Rome  for 
a  few  days,  was  ready  for  us,  and  glad  we  were  to  rest. 
Tea  and  bread  and  butter  tasted  good,  the  butter  was  de- 
lectable after  two  months  in  which  I  had  not  tasted  it. 
Yesterday  we  looked  over  the  studio,  which  is  in  fine  order, 
and  got  some  business  attended  to.  Among  other  things  we 
went  and  looked  again  at  the  house  which  I  have  described 
to  you.  It  pleased  me  as  much  as  before.  We  have  not 
seen  Signora  Teresa  about  our  old  house  with  additional 
rooms,  but  will  do  so.  Each  has  some  advantages.  Here 
the  palace  is  finer  and  larger  and  cooler,  more  beautiful  and 
close  to  the  studio.  The  staircase  (a  great  object  in  Rome) 
IS  incomparable.  The  other  house  has  a  pretty  view  over 
the  river  and  meadows,  is  not  so  high,  has  a  better  kitchen 
and  more  rooms — perhaps  more  than  we  require.  The 
rooms  are  not  so  large  as  here.  For  myself  I  am  indiffer- 
ent, this  house  is  dear  from  association  and  habit,  and  it 
is  near  the  studio,  which  last  year  when  I  was  alone,  was  a 
great  object.  This  winter  it  will  make  less  difference.  The 
weather  is  very  hot,  no  one  ever  knew  it  so  warm  at  this 
season  before,  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  cholera  still 
continues,  though  much  abated.  We  have  no  fear,  our 
room  is  high  and  cool  and  we  are  as  careful  in  our  diet  as 
can  be.  .  .  .  We  are  packing  up  what  little  we  need, 
settling  some  trifles  of  business  and  on  Monday  I  hope  we 
shall  leave.  Rome  looks  desolate  enough,  the  streets  are  so 
quiet  and  deserted,  all  the  palaces  are  closed  and  little  busi- 
ness doing.  .  .  .  You  know  how  depressing  it  is  to  go 
through  a  great  city  which  you  have  always  seen  gay  and 
crowded  with   strangers  and  natives,   and   all  alive   and 


LETTERS  143 

1867 
Age  25 

bustling,  to  find  it  dead  and  still  and  dismal  with  a  cloud 
of  fear  and  anxiety  over  it.  But  our  American  cities  are 
never  so,  I  think.  I  hoped  to  see  last  night  in  Galignani 
that  the  "Fulton"  had  reached  Brest,  but  there  was  no 
notice.  It  takes  the  paper  three  days  to  get  here,  so  it  was 
only  Saturday's  paper.  Tonight  I  hope  to  see  news. 
I  would  have  asked  you  to  telegraph  from  Havre  only  I 
know  your  horror  of  despatches.  It  is  less  expensive  to 
telegraph  here  than  at  home,  being  only  five  francs  from 
Paris  to  Rome.  However,  I  will  try  to  be  patient,  and  wait 
for  your  letter,  though  my  anxiety  and  impatience  are  al- 
most uncontrollable.  ...  I  suppose  you  will  have 
heard  that  a  railway  is  made  over  the  Mont  Cenis.  While 
they  have  been  laboriously  tunnelling  under  it  with  a  dim 
and  distant  prospect  of  getting  through,  some  one  has 
thought  of  a  means  of  getting  over  it.  They  have  laid  rails 
right  on  the  coach  road,  and  the  locomotives  are  so  made 
that  they  can  bend  and  curve.  They  can  only  carry  sixty 
tons  weight  each,  but  will  be  improved  in  time.  Some  forty 
persons  crossed  the  other  day.  We  cannot  learn  if  trav- 
ellers are  regularly  transferred  across  yet  but  hope  so  as  in 
case  we  go  to  Switzerland,  it  will  save  us  ten  hours  night 
coaching.  We  wait  to  hear  from  you  and  will  act  as  you 
advise.  If  we  go  we  sliall  take  the  rail  to  Leghorn  and 
La  Spezzia,  the  boat  or  coach  to  Genoa,  then  proceed  by  rail 
to  Susa,  and  I  hope  continue  by  rail  over  the  Mont  Cenis 
to  Chambery  and  Geneva.  This  would  be  our  quickest  and 
least  expensive  way.  I  am  not  sure  if  the  route  by  Milan 
and  the  Simplon  is  much  longer.  We  will  enquire.  It  is 
much  the  most  beautiful  and  I  hope  you  will  come  to  Italy 
that  way.     .     .     . 

Rome,  September  17,  1867. 
My  Own  Dear  Mother: 

I  have  been  waiting  and  longing  and  looking  for  a  let- 
ter from  you  or  news  of  you  in  the  paper,  before  I  should 
write  again.    No  letter  is  there  yet,  but  last  night  in  Gali- 


144  LETTERS 

1867 
Age  25 

gnani,  away  in  one  corner  among  the  "Items,"  I  found  a 
precious  two  lines  which  made  my  heart  leap  with  joy.  It 
said  the  "Fulton"  with  fifty-five  passengers  had  arrived 
at  Falmouth  at  4  A.  M.  on  the  12th.  I  had  looked  all  over 
the  paper,  at  the  telegraphic  despatches,  at  the  "Shipping 
News,"  at  the  "American  Advices,"  but  not  one  word  of 
the  "Fulton"  had  I  found,  and  I  was  laying  down  the 
paper  sick  and  sad  at  heart,  when  at  last  "Fulton" — 
blessed  word,  caught  my  eye  among  the  "Items"  and 
there  was  what  my  heart  ached  to  know.  You  are  really 
in  Europe!  Really  only  four  days  distant  from  me  in- 
stead of  a  weary  sixteen !  Though  as  yet  there  is  no  letter 
I  am  content  to  know  that  you  are  reachable,  and  we  only 
wait  to  hear  from  you  to  start  off  at  once  and  never  stop 
till  we  meet.     .     .     . 

We  have  today  seen  a  house  which  suits  us  better  than 
any  we  have  seen  before.  The  one  in  the  Ripetta  we  went 
to  see  again  and  though  it  still  pleases  us  we  fear  much  it 
might  be  damp  when  the  river  rises.  There  were  some  few 
other  objections  also.  .  .  .  The  house  we  saw  today  is 
lovely.  It  is  a  villa,  standing  alone  amid  gardens,  but 
only  a  few  minutes  walk  from  here. 

Geneva,  September  27,  1867. 

My  Dear  R : 

We  left  Rome  under  funny  circumstances  on  Friday 
night,  just  a  week  ago.  After  waiting  and  waiting  for 
news  we  at  last  received  a  despatch  from  Paris,  and  next 
day  a  letter.  We  thought  to  start  at  once,  but  what  with 
passports,  and  circular  tickets  and  our  bankers,  we  were  de- 
layed a  day  or  two.  At  last  all  was  ready,  when  a  new 
difficulty  arose.  The  Government  had  issued  a  new  tariff 
for  the  cabs ;  Friday  morning  a  strike  took  place,  not  a  cab 
appeared  on  the  stands.  The  police  made  inquiries.  The 
coachys  answered  their  horses  were  sick  or  used  up  or  their 
cabs  needed  repairs.  The  police  "smelt  a  rat"  to  use  a 
vulgar  term,  and  coolly  said,  "produce  your  cabs  in  an 


LETTEES  145 

1867 
Age  25 

hour  or  go  off  to  jail!"  "Very  well,"  says  coachy,  "we'll 
go  to  jail. ' '  Accordingly  one  thousand  of  them  were  safely 
lodged  there,  not  one  would  appear,  no  livery  stable  dared 
send  out  carriages,  for  fear  the  other  coachys  would  beat 
the  drivers  for  not  joining  the  strike.  How  were  we  to 
get  to  the  station,  a  mile  or  more  with  our  luggage  ?  There 
was  the  question.  We  sent  to  one  stable  after  another  and 
failed.  At  last  one  man  said  he  would  come,  and  he  ap- 
peared with  a  great  conveyance  and  two  gay  young  horses, 
and  I  thought  we  were  lucky.  But  to  my  surprise  he  told 
me  /  must  drive !  I  shouted  at  the  idea, — ' '  I  drive  through 
the  streets  of  Rome !  Not  a  bit  of  it ! "  "  There  is  no  other 
way,  Signora, ' '  says  coachy,  ' '  I  dare  not  drive  or  I  may  be 
beaten.  I  can  only  sit  behind  as  a  footman. "  "  But,  Good 
Heavens,"  said  I,  "I  shall  run  over  scores  of  children." 
' '  Never  mind, ' '  says  coachy,  ' '  they  are  used  to  it. ' '  Which 
last  humane  sentiment  upset  me  completely,  and  I  at  last 
"mounted  up"  whip  in  hand  and  drove  positively  without 
killing  many  young  ones,  to  the  station.  I  caught  sight  of 
the  astonished  face  of  one  of  our  friends  at  a  street  corner, 
and  nodded  to  him  to  show  him  it  was  not  my  ghost  as  he 
evidently  supposed,  and  I  left  him  staring  blankly  after  us ! 
Well,  after  all  our  fusses  and  troubles,  we  were  off,  and 
glad  I  was  to  leave  Rome,  which  seemed  forlorn  and  miser- 
able, the  weather  has  been  so  hot  and  sultry.  We  went  di- 
rectly through  to  Milan  in  twenty-four  hours.  Two  days 
later  we  went  to  Sesto,  where  we  took  the  steamer  on  Lake 
Maggiore  for  Pallanza  and  thence  by  carriage  to  Domo 
d'Ossola,  where  we  spent  the  night.  Next  morning  took 
the  diligence  over  the  Simplon.  It  was  not  new  to  me  but 
I  enjoyed  it  much,  we  found  no  snow  on  the  top  as  there 
was  last  year,  but  it  was  bitter  cold.  We  reached  Sion  at 
eleven  at  night  weary  and  frozen,  and  we  went  to  bed  and 
had  hot  soup  served  us  and  slept  well.  Yesterday  we  had 
a  pleasant  little  five  hours  railway  ride  here  seeing  the 
Chateau  de  Chillon  on  the  way.  We  reached  here  at  four, 
came  to  the  Hotel  des  Bergues,  where  we  have  a  pleasant. 


146  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

sunny  room  on  the  upper  floor.  Today  we  have  "done" 
the  town,  which  has  fine  shops,  fine  streets,  and  a  fine 
situation.  Mt.  Blanc  shows  his  head  often  and  tonight  at 
sunset  he  was  lovely  in  a  rosy  tinted  aspect.  The  weather 
is  very  cold.  Last  night  was  really  wintry,  today  less  so 
but  still  cold,  cold  like  our  mid-winter  in  Rome.  But  I  like 
it  so  much,  I  feel  much  better  already.  The  Italian  sum- 
mers are  detestable,  and  I  hate  Italy  in  the  summer.  It  is 
delightful  to  get  into  this  dear,  clean  Suisse  where  they 
speak  French  and  German  and  I  do  not  hear  Italian  which 
I  much  dislike.  I  cannot  tell  why,  only  that  this  summer 
I  have  longed  so  for  an  English  word,  or  French  or  Ger- 
man, that  the  Italian  has  become  hateful  to  me.  I  do  so 
enjoy  the  sweet  butter,  delicious  bread,  and  luscious  honey 
of  this  dear  Switzerland.  ...  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
we  had  engaged  a  lovely  house  in  Rome,  exactly  what  I 
wanted  in  every  respect.  The  one  I  described  to  you  be- 
fore was,  though  pleasant  in  itself,  in  a  bad  street  and  I 
feared  a  damp  situation  and  the  entrance  was  poor,  so  we 
gave  that  up,  and  at  last  by  chance  found  another,  which 
we  took  instantly.  It  is  a  villa  at  the  foot  of  the  Pincio,  but 
not  so  near  the  foot  as  to  be  damp,  it  stands  alone  in  a 
garden,  on  a  little  street  which  leads  in  one  minute  to  the 
Piazza  di  Spagna.  We  have  the  whole  upper  floor  and  so 
have  sun  on  every  side.  There  is  quite  a  grand  entrance 
and  marble  staircase.  The  rest  of  the  house  is  permanently 
occupied  by  a  Russian  Prince.  The  stairs  are  easy  and  we 
are  not  at  all  high  up.  The  house  belongs  to  a  gentleman 
who  was  most  kind  and  said  we  should  have  anything  we 
wanted.  He  would  speak  to  his  steward  of  it.  The  rooms 
are  all  large  and  airy,  and  have  no  end  of  windows  into 
which  the  sun  pours  all  day.  They  look  down  into  lovely 
gardens,  and  beyond,  all  over  Rome.     .     .     . 

October  2. 
Here  has  my  letter  been  waiting  days  and  days  to 
announce  the  arrival  of  our  travellers.     At  last  they  are 


LETTERS  147 

1867 
Age  25 

here  all  looking  remarkably  well.  We  drank  your  health 
to  celebrate  your  birthday,  and  how  we  wished  you  were 
with  us.  It  is  a  grand  celebration  of  your  birthday  to  have 
our  meeting  occur  on  that  day.  We  go  from  here  to 
Chamonix.    We  all  send  best  love.    Aff. 

Emma. 

Florence,  October  26,  1867. 
My  Dear  R. : 

We  were  rejoiced  on  our  arrival  here  by  a  whole  budget 
of  letters.  .  .  .  We  are  busy  sight-seeing;  Florence 
just  now  is  divinely  beautiful,  after  the  rainy  weather  we 
had  in  Milan  and  the  cloudiness  of  Venice,  we  find  most 
enchanting  the  pure  bracing  air  and  cloudless  sky  of  Flor- 
ence. More  really  lovely  days  could  not  be.  I  think  the 
view  down  the  river  from  the  Cascine  is  one  of  the  most 
perfect  imaginable.  We  always  linger  on  the  Bridge  of 
Santa  Trinita,  to  enjoy  the  ''bella  veduta. "  We  are  most 
comfortably  settled  at  Mme.  Barbenzi's,  formerly  her 
mother's,  Mrs.  Molini  Clark.  You  know  the  place.  We 
have  delightful  rooms  and  an  excellent  table,  ...  I 
am  glad  we  are  so  well  off  as  it  seems  doubtful  when  we 
get  to  Rome.  Things  are  complicated  there,  even  last  night 
the  news  was  that  Garibaldi  was  under  the  walls  of  Rome 
and  had  taken  four  hundred  Papal  troops  prisoners.  The 
French  ships,  however,  are  at  Civita  Vecchia,  and  no  one 
knows  what  they  will  do.  The  people  here  made  a  demon- 
stration yesterday,  a  crowd  went  to  the  King's  palace  and 
demanded  that  troops  be  sent  to  Rome  to  help  Garibaldi, 
and  waited  for  the  answer.  It  was  sent  them  soon;  the 
King  said  if  the  French  troops  landed  he  would  send 
forces  at  once  to  Rome  and  ask  Garibaldi  to  join  him.  Still 
this  is  not  very  clear,  and  only  time  will  show  how  affairs 
will  go.  We  hope,  however,  that  the  troubles  will  not  last 
long,  and  that  we  may  soon  get  there.  Our  house  is  en- 
gaged for  the  first  of  November,  but  it  makes  no  great 
matter  when  we  get  into  it. 


148  LETTEES 

1867 
Age  25 

Rome,  December  15,  1867. 
Dear  R. : 

This  whole  last  week  I  have  been  making  attempts  to 
write  to  you  but  whenever  I  got  settled  to  it  with  pen  in 
hand,  someone  was  sure  to  want  me,  either  Mother  to  "tell 
Nanna  something, ' '  or  Father  to  go  sight-seeing,  or  Nettie 
"just  to  do  a  little  shopping  that  must  be  done!"  or  else 
Nanna  or  Augusto  came  to  know  what  were  the  Signora's 
wishes.  I  can  tell  you  my  time  is  well  filled  by  my  large 
and  dear  household.  .  .  .  We  have  not  done  much 
sight-seeing  lately  as  it  has  been  so  cold.  So  we  have  been 
visiting  studios,  and  have  seen  Story 's,  Miss  Hosmer  's.  Miss 
Foley's,  Mr.  Haseltine's,  T.  Buchanan  Reed's  and  one  or 
two  Italian  artists,  also  the  Misses  Williams'.  ...  It 
has  been  so  horribly  cold.  Such  weather  has  not  been 
known  in  years.  Everyone  grumbles  and  I  am  woefully 
sorry  on  Father's  and  Mother's  account,  but  the  saying 
here  is  that  Christmas  is  the  shortest  and  coldest  day  in  the 
year  and  after  that  it  grows  milder,  so  we  all  hope  for 
warmer  weather  soon. — Father  is  busy  with  his  "Republi- 
can" letters,  writing  up  all  our  journey  to  Rome.  I  be- 
lieve he  is  now  on  the  point  of  finishing,  as  last  night  he 
had  reached  Leghorn ! 


186S 

Age   26 


LETTERS  OF  18G8  AND  1869 

23  rue  Pauquet  de  Villejust,  Paris. 
August  6,  1868. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Your  letter  was  handed  me  last  Sunday  just  as  we  were 
starting  for  Versailles.  I  received,  a  few  days  later,  the 
"Liberal  Christian"  which  you  sent  me.  It  is  a  great  treat 
to  see  home  newspapers.  I  seldom  go  to  the  banker's  and 
that  is  the  only  place  where  I  would  have  a  chance  to  see 
them.  I  intended  to  subscribe  to  Galignani  's  Circulating  Li- 
brary, which  contains  all  the  standard  literature  and  also  the 
newspapers  of  all  countries,  but  I  have  become  interested 
in  studying  Italian  with  0.  and  that  occupies  all  my  spare 
time.  I  have  a  long  lesson  every  evening  and  find  it  ab- 
sorbing. I  envy  you  your  return  to  a  library  at  home;  I 
was  longing  the  other  day  for  some  of  those  little  Abbott's 
Histories  such  as  ''Marie  Antoinette,"  "The  Empress  Jose- 
phine," etc.,  which  would  make  seeing  the  places  much 
more  interesting.  I  mean  to  look  if  they  are  obtainable 
here.  We  are  soon  going  to  see  Malmaison,  the  last  resi- 
dence of  Josephine. 

Queen  Victoria  is  in  Paris,  staying  at  the  British  Em- 
bassy. She  is  on  her  way  to  Lucerne,  where  a  house  has 
been  taken  for  her  for  the  summer  and  autumn.  I  would 
like  to  see  her  and  fancy  we  came  near  it  yesterday  as  we 
passed  the  Embassy  while  a  crowd  was  at  the  gate.  There 
issued  in  a  few  moments  a  very  plain  closed  carriage  in 
which  I  presume  was  Her  Majesty,  but  invisible.  On  the 
15th  of  this  month  is  the  Emperor's  Fete,  when  all  the  city 
is  illuminated.  There  are  splendid  fireworks  in  several 
places  and  all  the  theatres  are  free.     From  the  prepara- 


150  LETTERS 

1868 
Age   26 

ations  which  I  see  going  on,  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  the  Arc  de  I'Etoile  I  should  think  it 
would  be  magnificent.  From  our  house  we  shall  have  a 
fine  view  of  the  Arc  de  I'Etoile  and  the  Trocadero  as  we 
are  high  up.  We  find  our  house  very  comfortable  this  hot 
weather;  we  are  so  high  up  that  there  is  always  a  breeze 
through  the  rooms.  The  stairs  are  an  inconvenience,  but 
I  try  to  mount  only  once  a  day  and  then  very  slowly.  Our 
boxes  have  arrived  from  Rome  and  their  contents  are  so 
nicely  arranged  in  the  studio  as  to  call  forth  much  admira- 
tion. .  .  .  There  are  not  many  Americans  here  now, 
they  have  all  gone  to  Switzerland.  I  had  a  note  from  Miss 
Page  yesterday;  she  is  at  Coblenz,  enjoying  the  Rhine 
scenery.  Miss  Newland  is  at  Berne.  We  have  a  good  ser- 
vant in  the  woman  who  lets  the  apartment ;  she  keeps  things 
neat  and  is  very  economical.  Every  evening  she  brings  me 
her  bill  of  the  day's  expenses  and  I  make  the  account  and 
pay  her.  We  have  sent  to  the  country  for  a  barrel  of  wine 
from  the  estate  of  a  friend.  It  is  a  barrel  of  three  hundred 
bottles  and  costs  $12.00.  This  is  better  and  purer  than  the 
wine  here  and  much  less  expensive  as  it  comes  to  about 
seven  cents  a  bottle;  the  cost  of  transportation  and  duty 
included.  If  we  find  it  good  (if  it  is  transportable)  would 
you  like  a  barrel  sent  to  you  ?  O.  says  it  will  be  about  such 
wine  as  we  had  in  Rome.  You  will  make  wine  at  home  this 
year  but  it  will  hardly  be  good  to  drink  for  a  twelve 
month. 

August  19,  1868. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  had  just  wakened  this  morning  when  nurse  and  baby 
brought  me  your  letter  of  August  4th  which  made  me  most 
happy.  It  seems  natural  to  receive  letters  from  Meadville 
again.  So  natural  that  sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  all 
this  last  year  has  been  a  dream  and  you  never  left  home. 
Does  it  seem  so  to  you?  It  isn't  a  dream,  though,  and  I 
think  that  all  you  have  seen  in  Europe  will  be  pleasant  to 


LETTERS  151 

1868 
Age  26 

talk  and  think  of  all  your  life.  I  often  think  over  the  many 
sights  we  saw  together,  and  which  particularly  impressed 
or  pleased  us.  Do  you  remember  Milan  Cathedral? — and 
that  splendid  sunny  afternoon  when  we  floated  in  a  gondola 
through  the  canals  of  Venice;  and  the  day  we  went  to  the 
fox  hunt  in  Rome  and  the  lovely  afternoon  in  the  Baths  of 
Caracalla  and  on  the  Coliseum  with  the  buglers  playing  be- 
low. And  then  the  sweet  chanting  of  the  Nuns  at  the 
Trinita  dei  Monti  and  the  vespers  at  St.  Peter's.  Few 
things  have  left  such  an  exquisite  impression  on  me  as  the 
chanting  of  the  Nuns ;  is  it  not  so  with  you  ?  One  memory 
brings  back  another  and  they  crowd  into  my  mind, — the 
Pincio,  Villa  Borghese,  where  we  gathered  flowers,  how 
long  ago !  Dear  me,  we  had  summer  in  Rome  six  months 
ago.  Do  you  remember  the  day  at  Tivoli,  how  hot  it  was 
and  that  was  the  twelfth  of  February,  and  the  twelfth  of 
March  we  spent  at  Ostia  and  at  Castel  Fusano.  Oh !  those 
solemn  stone  pines  at  Castel  Fusano,  how  grand  they  were. 
Would  you  not  like  to  have  a  grove  of  them  near  you? 


There  is  little  news  to  tell  you  except  about  the  Em- 
peror's Fete;  on  Friday,  there  was  a  grand  review  in  the 
Champs  Elysees.  The  avenue  was  lined  on  each  side  with 
infantry,  and  cavalry  filled  all  the  avenues  near  the  Arc  de 
I'Etoile.  There  was  something  of  a  crowd  but  we  got  a 
good  place  and  saw  everything.  The  Hundred  Guards 
("Cent  Gardes")  in  blue  and  silver  came  first;  then  the 
Emperor  in  crimson  uniform  on  horseback,  near  him  the 
little  Prince  Imperial  on  a  fine  roan  pony,  then  all  the  for- 
eign officers,  among  whom  were  two  English  Generals  and 
a  Turkish  General  who  was  magnificent,  and  many  others. 
There  was  a  band  at  every  two  streets  and  they  took  up  the 
air  as  the  Emperor  advanced  so  that  it  seemed  one  band 
only.  They  played  ''Air  de  la  Reine  Hortense"  or  "Par- 
tant  pour  la  Syrie."  The  Emperor  rode  slowly,  so  Ave 
could  see  him  very  well.     He  looks  ill.     The  little  Prince 


152  LETTEES 

1868 
Age  26 

was  dressed  like  any  boy  of  thirteen  in  a  dark  blue  suit 
and  he  bowed  constantly  to  the  people. 

The  Empress  was  in  a  carriage  near  the  Palais  de 
rindustrie  but  I  did  not  see  her.  At  the  Italian  Embassy 
on  a  balcony  was  the  Queen  of  Mozambique  with  her  at- 
tendants; such  a  figure!  You  couldn't  tell  if  it  was  a  man 
or  a  woman ;  she  sat  cross-legged  and  had  queer  leggings  to 
the  knees.  She  wore  a  garment  of  maroon  stuff  of  an  in- 
describable shape  with  a  hood  of  the  same  and  looked  like 
an  Egyptian  Sphinx.  She  sat  staring  at  everything  like  a 
statue.  Her  attendants  were  queer  looking  and  the  group 
was  a  sight  to  behold.  The  troops  passed  in  review  before 
the  Emperor  afterwards  as  he  took  up  his  place  near  the 
Empress,  but  we  only  saw  him  as  he  rode  up  and  back. 
The  next  night  the  illuminations  took  place,  but  I  have 
seen  much  finer  in  Rome  and  did  not  care  for  these. 

You  ask  about  my  lungs ;  they  do  not  trouble  me  in  the 
least  nor  does  my  throat.  I  mean  to  be  very  careful  this 
winter  and  hope  I  may  not  have  any  more  trouble  from 
tubercles.  I  think  our  house  will  be  comfortable  for  the 
the  winter;  we  have  the  sun  in  the  morning  in  front  and 
in  the  afternoon  at  the  back.  The  rooms  are  very  compact 
and  not  very  large.  The  coal  merchant  promises  us  wood 
at  the  same  price  as  the  wholesale  wood  dealer  sells  it  and 
we  shall  also  use  coke. 

Paris,  October  15,  1868. 
.  .  .  The  weather  has  been  perfectly  lovely  for  a  week ; 
I  could  not  stay  in  the  house  it  was  too  tempting  to  go  out, 
with  0.  for  long  walks.  He  has  had  to  go  into  the  old  part 
of  Paris  to  hunt  up  costumes,  etc.  One  day  I  had  to  wear 
my  chintz  dress  it  was  so  hot.  One  day  we  stopped  an  hour 
or  more  at  the  stalls  of  second  hand  books  along  the  quai. 
If  one  were  making  a  library  what  treasures  one  could  find 
there.  Books  in  every  language,  and  of  tempting  prices. 
For  instance  all  Bouffon  's  Natural  History  in  fifty  volumes 
finely  illustrated  bound  in  calf  for  eight  cents  a  volume! 


LETTEES  153 

1868 
Age  26 

Many  of  the  books  have  the  pages  uncut.  Dr.  Johnson's 
"History  of  England,  in  a  Series  of  Letters  from  a  Noble- 
man to  His  Son"  bound  in  calf  for  three  cents  a  volume. 
Scott 's  works  well  bound  fifteen  cents  a  volume ;  then  there 
are  all  the  Reviews,  the  Edinburgh,  Westminster,  etc., 
bound,  for  almost  nothing.  Speaking  of  books,  Mr.  May 
lent  me  a  most  interesting  work,  "The  Pictorial  History 
of  England,"  collated  by  several  celebrated  writers  and 
principally  by  George  Craik  and  Charles  Macfarlane.  It  is 
chiefly  a  history  of  the  antiquities,  the  ancient  habits  and 
customs,  costumes,  religion  and  laws  of  England  from  the 
earliest  times  to  the  present.  I  find  it  intensely  interesting 
and  the  endless  illustrations  very  fascinating.     .     .     . 

October  16. 
I  have  just  come  back  from  the  Louvre  where  we  went 
to  look  at  a  portrait,  the  sleeves  of  which  0.  wants  me  to  im- 
itate in  making  him  a  dress  for  his  model.  I  so  enjoyed  the 
gallery;  it  seemed  Rome-like  to  look  at  pictures.  It  is  so 
delightful  to  go  through  a  collection  of  pictures  with  which 
you  are  perfectly  familiar ;  then  instead  of  feeling  it  a  duty 
as  the  first  time,  to  examine  every  one,  you  can  go  only  to 
your  favourites  and  linger  long  over  them.  They  have  made 
a  new  entrance  to  the  galleries  and  they  are  making  a 
"Museum  of  Sovereigns"  and  one  can  now  see  Napoleon's 
camp  bed  and  table,  his  clothes,  his  dress  worn  at  St. 
Helena,  his  handkerchief.  The  clothes,  books,  armour  and 
jewels  worn  by  all  the  sovereigns  for  ages.  Today  is  colder 
and  cloudy  and  I  fear  our  lovely  weather  is  over.  Now  we 
must  expect  winter,  but  how  long  it  seems  since  we  had 
winter.  Only  think,  our  summer,  or  at  least  spring  began 
in  February,  on  that  day  when  we  dined  out  of  doors  at 
Tivoli,  and  you  had  the  table  moved  out  of  the  sun. 

My  Dear  Father :  Paris,  October  22. 

Unless  something  happens  to  prevent  I  shall  leave  here 
Monday  morning  on  the  night  train  for  St.  Malo  and  by 
boat  thence  to  Jersey  to  see  R.     .     .     . 


154  LETTEES 

1868 
Age  26 

0.  has  begun  a  picture  which  he  hopes  to  exhibit  at  the 
"Salon"  in  the  spring.  It  represents  an  incident  in  the 
life  of  Cardinal  Kichelieu;  he  made  a  sketch  of  the  design 
which  was  wonderfully  pretty.  His  master,  Monsieur 
Bonnat,  the  famous  artist  whose  academy  he  attended,  you 
remember,  for  three  months,  saw  the  sketch  and  praised  it 
highly,  encouraged  him  to  go  on,  gave  him  advice  and 
promised  to  see  him  when  the  picture  was  somewhat  ad- 
vanced. He  also  gave  0.  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Count 
N.,  the  President  of  the  Fine  Arts  Association  here  and  one 
to  the  Director  of  the  Hotel  Cluny  so  that  he  may  have 
free  access  to  make  studies  there  and  also  at  the  Louvre. 


I  wish  I  could  have  helped  you  in  your  lecture  on 
Europe  and  should  have  enjoyed  it.  About  a  year  ago  we 
were  floating  through  the  canals  of  Venice  admiring  the 
skill  of  the  gondoliers,  shuddering  under  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  buying  fruit  on  the  Rialto,  and  wandering  through 
the  vast  Palace  of  the  Doges.  Just  a  year  ago  we  were  in 
Florence  lingering  on  the  Ponte  Santa  Trinita  to  admire 
the  view  up  the  river,  winding  up  the  hill  to  Fiesole  in  the 
warm  sunshine  among  vineyards  and  villas  and  orange  gar- 
dens, chatting  with  Powers  in  his  studio,  fascinated  by  his 
genial  manner  and  the  soft  expression  of  his  brown  eyes 
so  full  of  enthusiasm,  of  fun  and  of  gentle  kindness.  Or 
walking  through  the  long  galleries  of  the  Uffizi  and  Pitti 
and  finding  new  beauties  at  every  fresh  visit.  Does  Mother 
remember  the  day  she  and  N.  and  I  tried  to  go  to  San 
Miniato  and  couldn't  because  the  horse  and  carriage 
couldn't  very  well  go  down  a  flight  of  steep  steps?  And 
our  beautiful  walk  one  afternoon  up  to  the  old  Convent 
and  Bellosguardo  and  the  villa  there  and  the  grand 
view  of  the  valley  of  the  Arno.  But  my  recollections  run 
away  with  me  and  I  daresay  you  remember  all  this  as  well 
as  I  do.  I  am  very  well  indeed  and  my  throat  and  lungs 
have  not  troubled  me  the  least  as  vet. 


LETTERS  155 

1868 
Age   26 

Paris,  November  24. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Your  most  welcome  letter  of  November  8th  has  just 
been  received  and  has  made  me  feel  as  though  now  I  could 
thoroughly  enjoy  the  day  which  is  clear,  bright  and  mild 
as  spring.  Indeed,  yesterday  morning  the  balmy  soft  air 
as  I  went  out  of  the  door  and  saw  a  piece  of  ivy  waving  in 
the  breeze  over  the  wall  of  the  next  door  garden  produced 
an  intense  homesick  longing  for  Rome.  No  one  who  has 
not  lived  there  for  several  years  can  understand  the  intense 
fascination  it  has.  No  one  who  has  lived  there  and  called 
it  home  but  will  forever  long  to  go  back.  I  do  not  forget 
the  dirty,  narrow,  sidewalk-less  streets  nor  the  many  other 
discomforts  of  Roman  life,  but  I  think  with  them  all  it  is 
the  dearest  place  in  all  Europe  and  one  of  its  greatest  ad- 
vantages is  its  inexhaustibility.  One  can  never  finish  seeing 
Rome  and  its  environs,  I  have  lived  there  three  years 
nearly  and  I  have  yet  never  seen  Frascati,  Albano,  the  Lake 
of  Nemi,  the  ruins  of  Tusculum,  Palestrina,  etc.,  all  within 
eighteen  or  twenty  miles  of  Rome.  There  is  such  an  end- 
less field  for  research  in  every  department  of  knowledge. 
For  an  archaeologist,  where  is  there  a  better  field  than 
Rome ;  for  a  lover  of  history,  where  may  he  better  study  it 
from  the  earliest  to  the  latest  times ;  for  a  botanist,  the  flora 
of  the  Campagna  and  hills  is  inexhaustible,  and  a  geologist 
may  study  Rome's  environs  forever.  A  painter,  a  poet,  a 
writer  all  find  inspiration  there.  .  .  .  But  dear  me,  I 
think  sometimes  I  am  Rome  crazy  for  I  am  always  getting 
on  the  subject  in  my  letters  to  you  and  never  know  how  to 
get  off  it  again.  .  .  .  With  regard  to  your  remarks  on 
"The  Transfiguration"  I  must  wait  till  I  can  see  an  en- 
graving as  I  do  not  remember  well  enough  the  disposition 
of  the  figures  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  your  idea.  0. 
thinks  he  has  a  drawing  of  it  in  his  studio,  so  we  will  study 
it  tomorrow.  I  have  been  reading  "Ivanhoe"  and  so  has 
O. ;  he  has  enjoyed  it  exceedingly.  He  read  it  in  French, 
in  which  language  he  can  understand  it  better  than  in 


156  LETTEES 

1868 
Age  26 

English.  He  also  read  ''The  Black  Dwarf"  and  "Old 
Mortality."  Do  you  know  a  family  of  Pattersons  in  Bal- 
timore who  are  descendants  of  "Old  Mortality"?  I  have 
just  read  "Waverley"  and  have  much  enjoyed  it.  I  never 
tire  of  re-reading  Scott ;  he  always  makes  me  feel  in  a  better 
humour  with  myself  and  all  the  world ;  he  is  so  genial  and 
hearty  and  full  of  fun.  Tell  me  if  you  do  not  enjoy  some 
of  the  descriptions  in  the  "Marble  Faun"  and  if  it  does 
not  bring  back  Rome  very  vividly?  The  description  of  the 
day  in  the  Villa  Borghese  I  remember  well  and  I  have 
somewhere  a  little  sketch  of  the  Statue  of  the  Pope  at 
Perugia,  where  Donatello  and  Miriam  meet.  Among 
my  photographs  you  will  probably  find  one  of  "Hilda's 
Tower"  in  the  Via  Portoghese.  ...  I  wish  I  could 
have  heard  your  lecture  on  Europe;  I  should  have  en- 
joyed it  exceedingly.  Europe  is  old  to  me  now  and  I  like 
to  hear  of  the  first  impressions  which  it  makes  on  others. 

We  had  such  a  treat  the  other  night ;  we  went  to  hear 
' '  The  Huguenots. ' '  Mr.  Cromelin  invited  us  all  to  go  and 
both  of  us  enjoyed  it  very  much.  O.  loves  music  so  and  so 
seldom  hears  it  now  that  he  nearly  went  crazy  over  it. 
Just  before  we  started  a  man  brought  two  splendid  bou- 
quets for  S.  and  me.  Oh !  such  beauties  as  they  were ! 
Mine  was  all  pink  and  white  camellias  with  little  spraj^s  of 
white  spirea  and  some  rosebuds.  S.'s  all  white  camellias 
and  little  bunches  of  violets.  It  looked  so  like  dear  old 
Rome  and  reminded  me  so  of  last  winter  with  all  its  dear 
and  tender  recollections.  I  saw  again  the  sunny  parlour  in 
Rome,  the  lovely  garden  full  of  camellias  under  the  win- 
dow, the  florist's  in  the  Babuino  before  whose  window  we 
always  paused  in  admiration,  the  little  studio  garden,  the 
Pincio,  the  Villa  Doria  and  further  back  my  first  birthday 
in  Rome  when  O.'s  friends  overwhelmed  me  with  nowers 
and  still  further  back  our  old  courting  days  when  O.  sent 
me  flowers  fresh  and  sweet  every  evening.  Well,  I  must 
go  back  to  the  flowers  of  the  other  evening ;  they  were  lovely 
but  very  embarrassing.    They  were  evidently  intended  for 


LETTEES  157 

1869 

Age  27 

US  to  carry  to  the  Opera  but  nobody  does  take  flowers  there 
now  and  they  were  enormous.  We  debated  and  discussed 
but  they  had  to  go  with  us,  and  we  marched  into  the  House 
with  our  huge  bouquets  held  stiffly  before  us  as  though  we 
were  making  a  charge  of  bayonets ! 

Paris,  January  10,  1869. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

I  have  just  been  enjoying  reading  your  Christmas  letter 
which  came  this  morning.  It  has  been  sixteen  days  on  the 
way  and  it  was  twelve  days  since  I  had  heard,  so  it  was  a 
greater  luxury  than  usual.  Baby  brought  it  to  me  in  her 
tiny  hands  and  as  soon  as  it  was  opened  she  begged  for  the 
envelope.  She  considers  that  her  prerogative  and  so  after 
marking  the  date  I  generally  give  it  her  for  I  have  a 
liking  that  she  should  play  with  and  touch  something  that 
comes  from  you  and  Father.  .  .  .  I  am  surprised  to 
find  how  this  climate  of  Paris  seems  to  agree  with  my  chest 
and  throat ;  whether  this  is  an  exceptional  winter  I  hardly 
know,  but  it  is  certain  I  never  got  on  so  far  before  with  so 
little  trouble.  I  am  better  than  I  have  been  for  years.  I 
can't  tell  you  what  a  relief  it  is  to  have  no  scraping  of  the 
throat  nor  pain  in  the  chest.  .  .  .  We  use  coke  a  good 
deal  for  heating  our  small  rooms.  ...  0.  and  I  are 
both  very  happy  because  he  has  painted  a  dress  wonder- 
fully. It  is  a  Cardinal's  dress  and  every  one  says  it  is 
remarkable.  The  colour  and  silkiness  are  so  well  done,  it 
seems  as  though  you  could  hear  the  silk  rustle.  Madrazo, 
the  Spanish  artist,  has  twice  brought  amateurs  to  the  studio. 
.  .  .  I  would  much  like  to  see  Holland  and  the  Dutch 
cousins  again  but  I  want  to  see  home  more,  so  as  soon  as  ever 
we  can  we  shall  fly  across  the  sea.  .  .  .  We  have  lately 
seen  the  Emperor  and  Empress  often.  The  Empress  looks 
very  well  and  very  pretty,  she  is  always  dressed  in  black 
with  a  plain  black  bonnet.  Today  when  we  met  her  a 
woman  had  just  run  out  to  the  carriage  and  tried  to  make 
a  petition,  but  the  Empress  only  threw  her  some  money  and 


158  LETTEES 

1869 
Age  27 

drove  on.  The  woman  did  not  look  at  the  money  but  burst 
into  tears,  and  went  crying  back  to  the  sidewalk.  She  was 
a  nicely  dressed  person,  evidently  not  poor,  and  the  petition 
was  probably  for  the  pardon  of  some  relative  or  friend. 
They  often  do  these  things  in  the  street  but  the  Emperor 
cannot  listen  to  all  of  them  or  he  would  be  overwhelmed. 
.  .  .  It  has  been  such  a  fine  day,  if  the  weather  was 
never  colder  than  today  it  would  be  easy  to  winter  here. 
We  have  seen  no  snow  yet. 

Paris,  January  19. 

We  all  went  to  see  ''Theodorus"  at  the  Theatre  du 
Chatelet ;  the  papers  had  spoken  of  it  as  the  finest  spectac- 
ular play  ever  produced,  but  we  were  rather  disappointed. 
The  ballet  was  not  nearly  as  pretty  as  the  Roman  ones,  and 
there  was  no  plot.  It  is  a  play  made  out  of  the  Abysinian 
war  and  is  a  queer  mixture  of  the  English  and  savages ;  the 
only  peculiarities  are  a  serpent  charmer  who  dances  and 
plays  with  a  real  snake,  a  tame  one,  I  suppose, — and  a  lot 
of  Amazons  and  English  who  come  on  the  stage  on  real 
horses.  As  the  stage  is  small  and  the  horses  necessarily  old 
creatures  who  couldn't  run  or  scare  if  they  wanted  to,  this 
is  rather  ridiculous.  A  friend  of  O.'s,  the  Comtesse  de 
Mouzilly,  has  offered  to  introduce  us  at  the  last  ball  of  the 
Tuileries  to  which  we  shall  get  invitations.  I  would  like 
much  to  go,  not  so  much  to  be  presented  to  the  Emperor 
and  Empress  as  to  see  all  the  celebrated  statesmen,  ambassa- 
dors and  notabilities  generally  who  will  be  there  and  whom 
the  Comtesse  knows  personally  and  would  point  out  to  me. 
She  will  take  us  also  to  the  balls  of  Baron  Haussman  at 
the  Hotel  de  Ville;  they  are  very  magnificent  and  the 
Emperor  goes  sometimes.  She  will  also  introduce  0.  to 
Count  N.,  the  Minister  of  Fine  Arts,  a  useful  person  to 
know.  He  gives  weekly  parties  to  gentlemen  only  as  he 
is  unmarried,  and  these  principally  artists.  ...  I  have 
got  a  bargain,  a  huge  fourteen  pound  turkey  for  eight 


LETTERS  159 

1869 
Age  27 

francs!  of  a  woman  from  the  country  who  wants  money. 
It  will  be  a  treat  to  us. 

Paris,  February  9. 
It  is  such  a  lovely  day  I  feel  as  though  I  should  go  out, 
yet  also  I  feel  as  strong  an  inclination  to  write  to  you,  so 
I  will  compromise  by  writing  a  short  letter.  It  will  not 
reach  you  at  home  as  I  presume  you  are  even  now  on  your 
way  South.  I  cannot  wish  you  pleasanter  weather  for  it 
than  we  are  having  here.  We  have  had  no  fire  for  three 
days,  it  feels  like  a  Roman  day,  only  the  sky  is  never  such 
a  deep  blue  as  on  the  Campagna.  Do  you  remember  the 
day  we  went  to  the  fox  hunt  1  I  see  at  Ostia  they  have  just 
dug  up  a  very  fine  bronze  Venus  and  another  fine  antique. 
Do  you  also  remember  the  day  at  Ostia  and  the  lunch  under 
the  pines  at  Castel  Fusano?  Paris  is  as  gay  as  can  be  in 
these  last  days  and  the  Boeuf  Gras  has  been  making  his 
tour  of  the  city.  I  am  fortunate  enough  now  to  have  a  daily 
paper,  and  from  it  gather  all  the  news  going.  ' '  Galignani ' ' 
is  a  daily  delight ;  it  is  just  large  enough  to  be  easily  read 
through;  it  has  extracts  from  all  the  newspapers  and  the 
political  articles  are  exceedingly  interesting.  I  am  sorry 
to  see  that  the  United  States  is  inclined  to  meddle  in  the 
Cretan  business;  Crete  is  a  mischievous  little  country  and 
hard  enough  to  manage  without  being  encouraged  in  her 
rebellion  by  America.  I  am  sorry  to  see  powder  and  food 
are  being  sent  her.  ...  I  think  it  is  a  great  step  in 
civilization  and  progress  that  differences  like  the  Turko- 
Greek  one  are  now  settled,  or  at  least  the  effort  is  made  to 
settle  them  by  a  Congress  of  Powers  and  that  war  is  not 
dashed  into  so  recklessly  as  in  the  past.  War  seems  such  a 
wicked  thing,  though  often  necessary,  that  anything  Avhich 
may  take  the  place  of  it  as  a  settlement  of  difficulties  must 
be  an  immense  good.  These  Congresses  certainly  are  use- 
ful ;  I  am  sorry  to  see  in  the  New  York  Tribune  words  from 
General  Grant  against  the  Convention  between  England 
and  the  United  States  and  also  to  note  that  many  of  the 
leading  papers  are  against  it.    They  talk  of  the  claims  not 


160  LETTEES 

1869 
Age  27 

being  such  as  can  be  settled  by  money,  and  that  only  war 
can  adjust  them.  Surely  the  Senate  will  not  refuse  the 
arrangement.  The  idea  of  a  war  now  seems  so  terrible,  the 
United  States  is  in  sufficient  debt  now  without  incurring 
more  and  she  is  not  able  to  cope  with  foreign  Powers  yet. 
.  .  .  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  have  admitted  ladies  into 
the  Theological  School ;  I  fear  it  is  a  great  mistake  and  that 
you  will  have  trouble  yet  with  them.  The  more  I  see  of 
women's  conventions  the  more  disgusted  I  get.  Women 
are  degenerating  sadly,  I  think;  they  have  all  the  rights 
God  meant  them  to  have  and  they  are  only  trying  to  unsex 
themselves  and  make  themselves  hateful  to  men  and  to 
God.  Sometimes  I  think  the  old  times  were  the  best  when 
bloomers  and  Mormons  and  ^¥omen's  rights  did  not  exist. 
I  am  a  thorough  conservative,  I  don't  like  modern  radical- 
ism. We  took  a  great  walk  yesterday,  beyond  the 
' '  Temple " ;  we  took  the  omnibus  there  and  then  walked  all 
the  way  home.  On  the  way  back  we  stopped  in  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde  to  see  the  procession  of  the  Boeuf  Gras  pass ; 
It  is  a  custom  the  last  days  of  Carnival  to  have  this  pro- 
cession which  consists  first  of  an  escort  of  Chasseurs,  then 
a  great  fat  ox  dressed  up  with  ribbons  and  drawn  in  a  cart, 
round  it  are  a  group  of  savages  who  brandish  their  axes, 
then  come  ''Mousquet aires"  on  horseback  in  Middle-Age 
costumes;  then  others  in  different  dresses  of  all  periods, 
then  a  chariot  of  musicians  in  costume  and  another  full  of 
girls  and  boys  dressed  to  represent  the  gods  and  goddesses. 
The  colours,  music  and  banners  make  it  a  highly  picturesque 
scene ;  they  go  all  over  Paris  stopping  before  each  Embassy, 
Ministry,  etc.  The  oxen  all  weigh  about  2700  pounds. 
These  are  Carnival  days  in  Rome  as  well.  I  wish  I  were 
there.  ...  I  am  very  well;  I  seem  to  get  stronger  all 
the  time.  I  have  almost  forgotten  that  my  lungs  were  ever 
weak;  I  believe  two  more  mild  winters  would  make  me  a 
strong  woman.  We  have  had  no  fire  for  three  days,  yet  I 
am  as  warm  as  can  be.  I  hope  I  shall  see  no  snow  this 
winter. 


LETTERS  161 

1869 

Age  27 

Paris,  March  21,  1869. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  have  just  finished  eating  a  birthday  dinner,  and 
have  drunk  your  health  in  a  glass  of  Burgundy  and  wished 
you  many,  many  returns  of  this  day.  I  wish  we  could  step 
in  and  see  you  this  evening.  Do  you  remember  this  day 
last  year  in  Rome?  How  warm  and  lovely  it  was.  .  .  . 
I  was  prepared  for  your  account  of  the  South  and  was  not 
surprised  at  your  disappointment;  I  feel  sorry  that  it 
seems  so  impossible  for  me  to  have  a  home  near  you  (com- 
paratively), but  perhaps  next  winter  I  can  stand  the 
winter  at  the  North.  I  may  say  I  have  never  passed  so 
comfortable  a  winter  as  this;  our  little  apartment,  though 
so  high  up,  has  proved  eminently  comfortable  on  account  of 
being  so  easily  warmed.  We  went  this  afternoon  to  see 
that  ' '  Panorama  of  the  Battle  of  Solf erino ' ' ;  did  you  ever 
see  it  1    It  is  quite  a  wonderful  illusion. 

Paris,  March  30,  1869. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

It  was  such  a  treat  to  have  your  long,  delightful  letter 
received  on  Sunday.  I  will  try  and  execute  all  your  com- 
missions to  your  satisfaction.  You  did  not  say  whether  you 
meant  me  to  pay  twenty-five  dollars  for  your  silk  paletot  in 
gold  or  in  paper  but  I  Avill  presume  you  mean  gold  and  go 
as  high  as  that.  I  see  the  spring  styles  are  so  various  that 
I  do  not  doubt  I  can  find  something  suitable  among  them. 
They  do  not  wear  now  the  old  fashioned  Mantilla  or  visite ; 
almost  all  the  styles  are  for  paletots  or  basques  in  different 
shapes.  I  have  not  seen  anything  very  desirable  in  which 
you  could  invest  your  present  from  Uncle  George.  I  have 
not  thought  of  what  I  shall  put  mine  into;  I  want  more 
than  anything  a  Point  de  Venise  lace  collar  like  yours  only 
deeper.  It  is  durable,  it  will  descend  to  my  daughter,  and 
I  love  old  lace.  As  to  our  coming  home  I  shall  try  and  land 
in  Boston.  What  a  blessed  luxury  home  will  be.  Life  in 
a  foreign  land  will  never  wean  me  from  home ;  I  love  warm 


162  LETTEES 

1869 
Age  27 

climates  and  blue  skies  and  flowers  and  all  the  treasures  of 
art  and  antiquity;  they  fill  a  want  of  my  nature  which 
continually  craved  them  before  I  came  to  Europe.  I  think 
from  my  childhood  I  longed  for  them,  but  nevertheless  my 
heart  will  forever  turn  to  home  as  the  brightest  and  dearest 
spot  on  earth.  Just  think,  eight  weeks  from  now  I  may 
be  on  my  way  to  America.  Let  me  know  of  anything  you 
w^ant  me  to  bring,  I  love  to  shop  and  it  is  no  sort  of  trouble 
to  me.  I'm  naturally  fond  of  buying  things  and  when  I 
can't  afford  to  do  it  for  myself  I  like  just  as  well  to  do  it 
for  others. 

Paris,  April  12,  1869. 

The  weather  at  present  is  exactly  like  June,  so  hot  and 
close  sometimes  that  it  oppresses  me;  the  trees  are  in  full 
leaf,  the  birds  are  singing  gaily,  every  one  is  out  in  chintzes 
and  spring  dresses,  straw  hats  have  made  their  appearance ; 
strawberries,  peas  and  asparagus  are  in  the  market;  it 
seems  as  though  summer  were  already  here,  but  the  whole 
winter  has  been  like  spring.  I  have  been  recommended, 
as  a  spring  remedy,  refreshing  and  beneficial,  to  take  a 
little  pulp  of  cassia;  it  should  be  taken  fresh  from  the 
canes  and  mixed  with  tamarind.  It  is  a  favorite  remedy  in 
Italy.  I  must  say  these  spring  days  make  me  homesick  for 
Italy  and  I  read  ' '  Dr.  Antonio ' '  which  harmonizes  with  my 
feelings;  its  descriptions  of  blue  sea  and  skies,  palms  and 
orange  groves  bring  back  to  me  recollections  of  that  drive 
along  the  Cornice  Road  which  grows  more  beautiful  to  my 
memory  as  time  goes  on;  nothing  ever  delighted  me  so  as 
that  drive.  I  would  like  to  own  a  little  villa  and  orange 
garden  somewhere  about  San  Remo  and  live  there.  What 
an  Eden  it  would  be.  Do  you  remember  the  queer  narrow 
streets  all  in  steps  at  San  Remo,  how  picturesque  they 
were?  .  .  .  Paris  is  looking  its  best  now  and  all  the 
world  is  out  driving.  One  sees  the  Emperor  and  the  Queen 
of  Spain  every  day. 


LETTERS  163 

1869 
Age  27 

London,  May  28,  1869. 
My  Very  Dear  Mother: 

This  is  the  very  last  letter  that  I  shall  write  you  before 
we  sail;  though  I  am  a  day  nearer  you  than  last  week  I 
feel  ever  so  much  further  off.  Breaking  up  our  regular 
habits  and  journeying  always  upsets  me  and  makes  me  feel 
strange  and  desolate.  We  left  Paris  Tuesday  morning 
after  all  sorts  of  contretemps.  N.  's  silk  dress  did  not  come 
home.  My  nurse  came  to  me  three  days  before  we  left 
and  said  she  would  not  go  to  America  for  the  same  wages 
and,  of  course,  I  was  in  her  power  and  had  to  give  in  to 
her  demand.  The  packing  was  mountainous  and  moving 
the  furniture  to  the  studio  was  considerable.  The  steamer 
tickets  were  mislaid  and  my  money  was  left  in  one  of  the 
trunks.  However,  at  last  we  got  off.  We  crossed  the 
Channel  comfortably ;  it  was  smooth  and  clear.  We  stopped 
at  Canterbury  for  the  night.  Oh,  such  a  lovely  place  as 
it  is.  After  our  dinner  we  walked  all  around  the  Cathe- 
dral, and  into  the  ghostly  cloisters  of  the  old  Abbey,  and 
peered  into  dark  vaults  and  shadowy  archways.  I  never 
enjoyed  anything  more.  We  saw  every  old  gate  and  ruin 
of  the  town  that  night,  and  could  hardly  make  up  our  minds 
to  go  to  bed  about  midnight.  Next  day  we  repeated  our 
ramble  and  0.  wanted  to  make  studies  and  sketches.  We 
are  in  a  queer  part  of  London  here ;  Guildford  Street,  Rus- 
sell Square,  but  we  are  quite  comfortable.  We  wanted  to 
go  to  Windsor  today  but  it  has  rained.  We  shall  go  to 
Liverpool  on  Monday  and  sail  on  Tuesday,  I  hope  some 
one  will  be  in  Boston  when  we  land. 


1870 
Age   28 


LETTERS  OF  1870 

DURING   THIRD    SOJOURN    IN   EUROPE 

23  rue  Pauquet  de  Villejust 

,,     „        „  ,,  Paris,  February  25,  1870. 

My  Dear  Father:  '  ■^ 

Your  letter  came  earlier  than  usual  this  week  and  found 
us  all  about  as  usual.  .  .  .  Mr.  Washburne  gave  a  re- 
ception on  the  22nd  in  honor  of  Washington's  Birthday; 
there  was  a  great  crowd,  every  American  in  Paris  was 
there. 

I  am  reading  with  intense  interest  the  Diary  and  Rem- 
iniscences of  Henry  Crabbe  Robinson  which  was  given  me 
before  I  left  home.  If  you  can  get  it  I  beg  you  to  do  so; 
it  is  one  of  the  books  really  worth  reading.  He  had  an  en- 
viable life;  he  never  attained  great  literary  celebrity  him- 
self, nor  was  he  noted  as  a  barrister,  yet  he  had  opportuni- 
ties of  knowing  the  great  minds  of  the  last  and  present 
century  such  as  few  are  blest  with.  He  knew  Goethe, 
Schiller,  Wieland,  Sehelling,  Schlegel,  Madame  de  Stael, 
the  Duchess  Amelia  of  Saxe  Weimar,  noble  women;  all 
these  and  many  others  in  Germany  and  in  England  he  was 
in  daily  and  friendly  intercourse  with.  Charles  Lamb  and 
his  sister,  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  Mrs,  Siddons,  Erskine, 
Rogers,  Byron,  Lady  Byron,  Flaxman,  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence, Hazlitt,  and  a  host  of  others.  I  have  not  yet  finished 
the  first  volume  but  have  glanced  into  the  second  which 
seems  even  more  interesting  than  the  first.  1  hope  you 
may  have  an  early  spring.  It  looks  here  as  though  winter 
were  already  over. 

Paris,  March  21. 
The  B.'s  are  planning  to  go  south;  they  will  leave  Fri- 
day travelling  slowly  to  suit  Mrs.  B.    One  day  to  Orleans, 


LETTEES  165 

1870 
Age  28 

next  Tours  where  they  will  spend  a  day  to  try  to  see  some- 
thing of  the  trial  of  Prince  Pierre  Bonaparte,  the  High 
Court  sits  there  this  week.  They  will  go  on  from  Tours  to 
Biarritz  and  Madrid  and  then  if  Mrs.  B.  is  able  will  make 
quite  a  tour  through  Spain,  visiting  Seville,  Cadiz,  Malaga, 
Granada,  and  perhaps  going  by  steamer  from  Cadiz  to 
Gibraltar  and  touching  at  Tangier,  in  Africa.  It  is  a  trip 
of  only  eight  hours  and  must  be  very  interesting.  Some 
gentlemen  just  returned  from  Spain  report  travelling 
there  as  quite  comfortable.  One  of  them  says  he  was  so 
charmed  with  Granada  that  he  spent  a  fortnight  there.  I 
went  with  0.  yesterday  to  see  a  painting  by  Fortuny  of 
Rome,  a  Spaniard.  It  was  ordered  by  Goupil  who  paid 
40,000  francs  for  it.  Goupil  is  now  offered  75,000  francs 
for  it  by  a  Mr.  Stewart,  a  Spaniard,  also.  Fortuny  is,  I 
presume,  or  soon  will  be,  the  rival  of  Meissonier.  This  pic- 
ture is  of  a  Spanish  wedding  and  is  of  supreme  excellence, 
exquisite  in  finish  and  in  brilliancy  of  colour ;  the  Empress 
has  been  to  see  it.  We  also  went  yesterday  to  see  some  of 
the  effects  of  Prince  Demidoff  which  are  to  be  sold  today 
at  the  Hotel  Drouot.  Being  very  fond  of  antiquities,  we 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  collection  of  curious  and  interest- 
ing things ;  it  seems  a  pity  to  have  it  scattered.  I  have  just 
read  over  my  letter  and  find  to  my  amazement  that  I  have 
left  out  the  object  of  it.  To  wish  you  many,  many  happy 
returns  of  this  day  and  that  each  may  find  you  in  good 
health  and  spirits.  I  wish  I  could  join  you  at  dinner  and 
spend  the  evening  with  you  all  round  the  cheerful  parlour 
table,  but  my  thoughts  will  be  there  if  I  am  not.  Mr.  B. 
gets  the  American  papers  which  we  benefit  by ;  he  has  ' '  The 
Nation,"  and  the  "Boston  Weekly  Spectator." 

Paris,  July  1,  1870. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  have  had  no  letter  from  home  this  week,  but  I  must 
write  you  all  the  same  though  my  letter  is  sure  to  be  dull 
when  I  lack  the  inspiration  of  one  from  home.    I  have  not 


166  LETTEES 

1870 

Age  28 

one  item  of  news  to  give  you  except  that  I  think  we  have 
found  a  summer  home  in  the  country  that  will  suit  us. 
Madame  de  Mouzilly  has  been  very  kind  in  looking  about 
for  us  and  writes  this  morning  that  she  has  found  a  house 
quite  close  to  her,  furnished  and  to  let  for  four  months.  It 
is  small  but  quite  large  enough  for  our  little  family.  It 
is  called  the  Castel  de  Rassay.  Castel  doesn't  mean  castle, 
but  something  very  much  smaller.  There  is  a  kitchen  gar- 
den filled  with  vegetables  and  fruit,  pear,  peach,  cherry  and 
apricot  trees.  There  is  a  little  stable  if  we  want  to  keep 
a  donkey;  the  butcher  comes  three  times  a  week,  the  baker 
is  close  by  and  supplies  groceries.  The  farm  will  supply 
us  with  milk  and  butter,  the  latter  for  24c  a  pound. 
Meat  is  14c  a  pound  and  chickens  are  plentiful.  The  man 
and  woman  who  have  charge  of  the  farm  will  serve  us; 
the  woman  has  been  a  cook  in  Paris.  The  Countess  says 
the  house  is  exquisitely  clean,  though  simple.  I  am  to 
supply  the  linen  and  we  shall  probably  stay  there  through 
October.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  get  into  the  country.  I 
don't  like  the  city  in  the  summer.  Chinon  is  the  town  near 
which  we  will  be,  and  Indre-et-Loire  is  the  County  or  ' '  De- 
partment. ' '  We  shall  go  down  to  Touraine  the  last  of  next 
week.    I  hope  0.  may  find  subjects  for  his  brush  there. 

Paris,  July  6. 
My  Dear  Father: 

What  a  difference  it  makes  whether  one  has  to  write  a 
letter  under  the  depressing  influence  of  not  having  received 
one  for  two  weeks  or  whether  under  the  inspiring  influence 
of  a  letter  just  received.  Half  an  hour  ago  I  sat  down  pen 
in  hand  and  found  I  had  not  a  word  to  tell  you,  and  con- 
cluded to  put  off  writing  till  tomorrow.  Five  minutes  later 
a  letter  from  you  and  Mother  came,  and  I  feel  now  as 
though  I  had  plenty  to  say  and  wanted  to  write.  Next 
week  I  shall  write  you  in  all  probability  from  the  country. 
We  expect  to  leave  Monday  morning  at  nine  and  reach  our 
destination  at  three  in  the  afternoon.    I  long  to  get  to  the 


LETTEES  167 

1870 

Age  28 

country;  the  weather  here  is  so  hot  and  heavy  one  can 
hardly  breathe.  Everything  is  parched  and  burnt;  they 
say  in  the  country  the  grass  is  like  hay  and  the  trees  are 
all  yellow  as  in  autumn.  We  are  well  satisfied  with  the 
arrangement  our  friend  has  made  for  our  summer  home.  A 
recent  letter  tells  us  that  she  has  obtained  a  house  for 
$60.00  for  the  whole  season,  the  season  being  four,  five  or 
six  months.  The  linen  also  they  are  to  furnish  which  we 
thought  at  first  they  would  not.  There  is  a  little  carriage 
which  belongs  to  us  while  we  are  there  and  we  can  hire  a 
pony  for  very  little.  The  kitchen  and  fruit  gardens  are 
well  stocked  and  are  entirely  at  our  disposal. 

Chateau  de  Rassay,  pres  Chinon 
Indre-et-Loire,  July  13,  1870. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  received  your  letter  of  June  25th  last  Sunday  .  .  . 
I  do  not  know  how  the  prospect  of  a  European  war  will 
affect  America  and  the  price  of  gold;  there  really  seems  a 
good  deal  of  danger  of  a  war  between  France  and  Prussia. 
The  papers  speak  of  it  as  imminent.  It  will  not  affect  us 
at  all  I  presume,  in  case  of  trouble  in  Paris  we  would  leave 
and  you  would  see  us  home  earlier  than  next  spring.  But 
you  will  want  to  know  something  of  our  present  residence. 
We  left  Paris  on  Monday  morning  and  came  on  the  Orleans 
and  Nantes  Railway  to  Port  Boulet  where  our  friends  met 
us  with  a  carriage  and  brought  us  to  our  house.  The  line 
of  railway  runs  through  the  most  lovely  part  of  France; 
there  are  hills  and  forests  and  valleys  and  broad  rivers  and 
a  fine  old  chateau  every  mile  or  two.  We  found  our  house 
ready  for  us  and  we  like  it  very  well.  It  is  neat  and  clean, 
not  very  luxuriously  furnished,  but  the  beds  are  good,  we 
have  all  the  necessaries  and  the  situation  is  charming.  I 
sent  you  a  sketch  of  the  house ;  here  is  a  plan.  The  kitchen 
is  in  one  of  the  towers,  the  other  is  a  large  brick  floored 
room  with  an  enormous  open  fireplace,  a  settle  and  table, 
an  old  fashioned  kitchen.     The  dining  room  has  a  window 


168  LETTEES 

1870 
Age  28 

in  front  and  at  the  back,  and  the  great  hall  has  a  big  glass 
door  which  opens  on  the  garden  on  the  front  and  another 
on  the  garden  behind.  The  staircase  is  in  the  third  tower 
behind.  The  up-stairs  is  about  the  same ;  the  towers  having 
little  dressing  rooms  in  them.  There  are  such  pretty  ave- 
nues of  lindens  all  around,  the  whole  place  is  surrounded 
with  a  wall  and  a  moat  outside  that.  It  was  built  in  1684, 
as  a  carved  stone  over  the  door  tells  us,  by  the  Sieur  de 
Rassay  and  was  a  large  grand  chateau,  the  present  building 
is  only  a  part  of  it.  The  woman  who  cooks  for  us  is  a  Gheer- 
ful  willing  person  and  a  good  plain  cook.  There  is  plenty 
of  nice  fruit  on  the  place  and  so  far  we  have  fared  well. 
The  only  objection  that  I  find  is  the  loneliness  and  awful 
stillness  to  which  we  are  so  unaccustomed.  I  have  never 
been  so  entirely  in  the  country.  There  are  other  houses 
all  about  but  the  village  is  fifteen  minutes  walk  and  we  are 
about  the  same  distance  from  "La  Ville  au  Maire. "  It  is 
quite  like  being  on  a  farm.  The  silence  is  very  oppressive. 
This  house  as  well  as  that  of  our  friends  is  on  high  ground 
and  the  view  is  wonderful  over  twenty  miles  of  country. 
Today  we  went  to  Chinon  about  five  miles  away;  it  is  a 
most  beautiful  old  place.     .     .     . 

I  hope  you  will  like  Henry  Crabbe  Robinson;  you  will 
not  find  it  hard  reading,  nor  does  it  require  any  mental 
effort.  I  enjoyed  very  much  the  glimpses  of  Charles  Lamb. 
His  description  of  Coleridge's  desultory  wandering  style 
of  reading  is  quite  amusing,  and  Charles  Lamb's  descrip- 
tion of  a  French  cemetery,  evidently  Pere  la  Chaise,  is 
capital.  When  I  saw  there  the  tomb  of  Abelard,  all  cov- 
ered over  with  blue  china  pots  of  flowers,  plaster  images  of 
little  Samuel  and  of  angels,  wreaths  of  yellow  immortelles 
with  "a  mon  pere"  and  "a  ma  mere,"  etc.,  in  black  on 
them  it  was  too  ludicrous.  To  see  the  gray  stony  face  of 
the  ascetic  Abelard  with  a  damaged  yellow  wreath  of 
flowers  round  it  fallen  very  much  over  one  eye  was  laugh- 
able indeed !  I  must  close  now,  as  it  is  midnight,  the  post- 
man takes  this  early  in  the  morning  before  I  am  up. 


LETTEES  169 

1870 
Age  28 

Chateau  de  Rassay,  July  25,  1870. 
My  Dear  S. : 

.  .  .  I  shall  certainly  see  you  again  if  you  pass 
through  Paris  on  your  way  to  England.  We  are  utterly 
and  entirely  disgusted  with  the  country.  Let  me  tell  you 
some  of  the  inconveniences; — the  Countess  had  told  us  so 
much  of  the  beauty  of  the  place  and  the  fine  views;  the 
view  is  pretty,  but  as  there  has  been  no  rain  for  six  months 
the  grass  is  as  burnt  as  though  there  had  been  a  fire  and 
the  trees  are  brown.  There  is  not  a  carpet  in  the  house 
and  the  floors  are  not  waxed  and  not  very  clean.  I  wanted 
to  have  them  scrubbed ;  they  would  not  let  me  as  it  would 
spoil  the  ceilings  below!  I  wanted  to  have  them  waxed; 
there  was  not  a  "frotteur"  far  or  near.  The  dining  room 
is  on  the  ground  floor,  and  there  are  swarms  of  flies  and 
ants,  the  latter  are  in  everything.  I  never  was  so  disgusted 
in  my  life.  We  do  all  we  can  to  get  rid  of  both  these  pests, 
but  they  seem  to  grow  worse  every  day.  The  Countess  had 
told  me  the  butcher  came  three  times  a  week,  and  the  baker 
every  day  with  fresh  bread.  Not  so!  The  butcher  from 
Chinon,  six  miles  away,  comes  when  you  send  for  him,  and 
when  the  postman  does  not  come,  which  is  whenever  there 
are  no  letters  for  us,  there  is  no  means  of  sending  for  the 
butcher.  The  baker,  far  from  bringing  what  he  calls 
bread,  only  makes  it,  and  we  have  to  send  or  often  go  our- 
selves a  mile  or  more  for  it.  The  Countess  said  the  fruit 
and  vegetables  were  all  ours ;  not  a  bit !  They  belong  to 
the  farmer  and  he  will  not  sell  the  vegetables  and  we  have 
to  send  to  Chinon  for  them.  The  bread  is  detestable,  the 
meat  often  spoiled,  there  are  no  vegetables  but  carrots  and 
potatoes,  which  latter  cost  six  francs  a  peck,  every  human 
being  expects  to  make  money  out  of  us  and  cheat  and  over- 
charge us  in  the  most  abominable  way.  We  are  about  a 
mile  from  anywhere  and  at  night  the  owls  hoot  and  the  dogs 
bark,  and  bats  fly  in  at  the  windows.  So  you  will  not  be 
surprised  to  hear  that  we  leave  on  Thursday,  go  to  Tours 


170  LETTEES 

1870 
Age  28 

for  a  week,  then  to  Amboise,  Blois,  Chenonceaux  to  see  the 
Chateaux  and  then  to  Paris  for  G  's  wedding. 

Paris,  August  24,  1870. 
Just  now  things  are  so  uncertain  here  that  we  do  not 
know  what  day  we  may  have  to  break  up  and  go  elsewhere. 
O.  is  still  at  Chambord.  I  am  staying  here  and  waiting, 
waiting  to  see  how  things  turn.  At  present  it  looks  as 
though  any  day  we  may  have  to  leave  Paris  and  go  to 
Chambord  and  perhaps,  if  the  war  continues,  to  America. 
.  .  .  I  am  afraid  you  may  feel  anxious  about  us  at 
home,  indeed,  I  feel  anxious  myself,  our  future  movements 
seem  so  uncertain.  I  feel  a  weight  on  my  mind.  The  peo- 
ple of  Paris  are  so  depressed  whereas  usually  they  are  so 
gay  and  light  hearted.  There  is  not  a  more  dull,  sad  city 
in  the  world  than  Paris.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  possible 
it  is  the  same  city  I  left  early  in  July.  I  have  not  seen  a 
smile  on  the  face  of  anybody ;  every  man,  woman  and  child 
has  a  sombre,  depressed,  anxious  look.  They  are  working 
night  and  day  on  the  fortifications;  they  are  provisioning 
the  town  and  yesterday  in  the  "Corps  Legislatif"  one 
member  suggested  sending  away  the  women  and  children; 
the  proposition  was  indignantly  rejected,  but  it  may  come 
to  that  yet.  We  have  no  news;  not  a  single  despatch  for 
days;  not  a  word  of  official  news  from  the  Government. 
Some  people  grumble  at  this,  others  say  it  is  best,  but  it  is 
hard  to  be  patient  when  one  is  kept  in  such  ignorance.  I 
keep  my  trunks  packed  and  am  making  my  arrangements 
so  that  I  may  be  ready  to  leave  at  a  moment 's  notice.  You 
cannot  imagine  what  a  trying  situation  it  is.  .  .  .  Just 
think,  no  one  gives  gold  now  at  all  in  change,  consequently 
when  you  have  to  change  a  twenty  dollar  note  they  give 
you  change  in  silver.  Yesterday  I  bought  something  that 
was  ten  francs  and  asked  them  to  change  me  a  hundred 
franc  note;  they  gave  me  eighteen  pieces  of  five  francs 
each!  These  are,  as  you  know,  heavy,  and  I  thought  I 
should  never  get  them  home.    Just  here  comes  bad  news; 


LETTEES  171 

1870 
Age  28 

the  Prussians  are  at  Chalons,  not  a  hundred  miles  from 
here.  Marshal  MaeMahon  has  burnt  all  his  stores  and  is 
in  retreat.  If  this  is  really  the  case,  we  must  leave  tomor- 
row, but  I  am  indeed  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do, — whether 
to  go  to  England  in  ease  of  extremity,  whether  to  remain 
in  some  town  in  France  retired  from  the  seat  of  war,  or 
whether  to  go  to  Italy.  In  England,  of  course,  I  am  in 
direct  communication  with  home  and  perfectly  safe,  but 
it  is  very  expensive  to  live  there.  However,  we  can  scarcely 
think  of  ourselves  in  these  times  so  momentous  to  France, — 
but  it  is  terrible  to  be  so  unsettled. 

Hotel  du  Grand  St.   Michel, 
Chateau  de  Chambord  par  St.- 
Dye-sur-Loire,  Loire-et-Cher, 
Tuesday,  September  13,  1870. 
My  Dear  S.: 

We  are  as  you  see  at  Chambord.  I  came  back  here 
about  two  weeks  ago,  and  we  shall  probably  stay  indefinite- 
ly; in  fact,  I  don't  know  what  is  going  to  become  of  us. 
People  are  leaving  Orleans  for  fear  of  the  Prussians  and 
I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  see  the  Uhlans  here,  only  we  are 
so  in  the  midst  of  a  desolate  park  that  I  fancy  they  won't 
find  much  to  take  here.  One  has  not  much  confidence  in  the 
present  government;  Rochefort,  Gambetta,  Favre.  Per- 
sonally I  feel  that  the  Republic  will  not  last  long,  and 
dearly  as  I  hope  to  see  Henry  V  of  France  on  his  throne, 
I  should  be  content  if  we  could  get  the  second  best  thing, 
the  House  of  Orleans  and  the  Comte  de  Paris.  But  what- 
ever party  one  belongs  to,  one  cannot  help  pitying  the  poor 
French.  Every  day  I  see  poor  hungry  men  and  refugee 
families  escaping  from  about  Paris,  leaving  all  their  world- 
ly goods  behind  them  and  seeking  work  where  none  is  to 
be  had.  Every  day  I  meet  people  who  have  been  walking 
for  ten  or  fifteen  days;  I  give  them  something  but  that 
cannot  last  them  long.  Today  a  man  and  woman  with  two 
children,  one  a  baby,  with  all  their  possessions  in  a  little 


172  LETTERS 

1870 
Age  28 

child's  wagon,  where  the  children  ride  when  their  parents 
can  no  longer  carry  them,  have  left  here.  They  slept  last 
night  in  the  barn  and  were  glad  for  it;  they  are  moving 
on  hoping  to  find  some  empty  hut  or  cabin  where  they  can 
shelter  themselves,  or  some  work  by  which  to  earn  their 
living.  ...  I  wish  I  were  going  home  with  you;  I 
must  say,  I  long  to  get  out  of  France. 

Chambord,  Sept.  15,  1870. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

I  was  so  glad  to  receive  on  Sunday  your  letter  of  August 
24th,  forwarded  from  Paris.  I  was  almost  afraid  I  should 
get  no  more  letters  from  Paris  and  feel  that  now  I  shall 
really  get  no  more  as  I  see  the  last  mail  by  Calais  to  Paris 
was  to  leave  last  Sunday.  Up  to  today,  however,  news- 
papers have  come  though  the  northern  lines  are  cut ;  in  all 
probability  this,  the  Orleans  line,  is  the  only  one  still  open. 
I  presume  by  tomorrow  this  also  will  be  cut.  I  see  by  the 
"Times"  that  all  letters  from  England  will  come  to  Tours, 
so  I  have  some  hope  that  communications  will  still  be  open. " 
I  am  so  out  of  the  way  here  that  but  for  letters  and  papers  \ 
I  might  as  well  be  on  a  desert  island.  I  have  my  London 
"Times"  for  the  French  papers  are  such  a  pack  of  lies, 
bombast  and  vanity  that  I  never  care  to  see  them;  they 
have  deceived  the  people  since  the  beginning  of  the  war 
and  doubtless  will  go  on  doing  so  to  the  end.  God  only 
knows  what  is  going  to  happen  to  this  unhappy  country. 
.  .  .  The  Republic  at  this  time  seems  to  me  another 
name  for  civil  war;  already  the  parties  are  at  swords' 
points  in  Paris;  the  ultras  are  against  the  present  Grovern- 
ment  because  it  isn't  ultra  enough.  The  first  thing  those 
mad  men,  Favre  and  Gambetta,  did  was  to  release  all  pris- 
oners and  put  arms  in  their  hands,  and  now  this  riff-raff, 
thieves  and  murderers,  are  prowling  through  Paris  making 
it  dangerous  for  the  population.  I  am  afraid  the  majority 
who  uphold  and  support  the  present  Government  have  an 
idea  that  a  Republic  is  unlimited  liberty  to  kill,  steal,  plun- 


LETTERS  173 

1870 
Age  28 

der  and  pillage.  The  people  talk  now  as  though  the  war 
was  gotten  up  by  the  Emperor ;  but  in  the  beginning  they 
were  all  crazy  for  it  and  ''A  Berlin"  was  on  every  tongue. 
Now  that  it  seems  they  are  going  to  Berlin,  but  not  in  the 
way  they  meant  to,  they  want  to  throw  all  the  blame  on  the 
Emperor,  Alas !  one  half  of  France  is  "going  to  Berlin"  as 
prisoners  and  the  other  half  is  having  Berlin  brought  to 
it.  Whatever  may  be  the  faults  or  mistakes  of  the  Emperor 
in  the  last  two  months,  no  one  can  deny  the  benefit  he  has 
been  to  France  in  the  last  twenty  years,  nor  that  the  coun- 
try has  prospered  in  that  time.  But  in  one  moment  the 
people  have  forgotten  all  this;  they  have  turned  against 
their  sovereign  and  no  words  are  too  strong  to  express  their 
animosity  against  the  whole  family.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
uphold  the  Emperor  and  yet  I  believe  he  was  the  best  man 
for  France.  Here  I  am  in  a  congenial  atmosphere  as  all 
the  people  are  of  course  strong  Legitimists  and  I  like  to 
hear  the  old  peasants  talk,  they  are  so  loyal  to  the  old  line. 
I  met  one  yesterday  who  after  saluting  me,  asked  ' '  Is  there 
any  news,  Madame?"  When  I  had  told  him  he  shook  his 
head  and  said,  "Ah,  Madame,  we  have  fallen  on  evil  times, 
but  perhaps  they  are  leading  us  to  the  Great  Restoration, 
and  when  that  comes,  how  gladly  we  shall  all  shout  ^Vive 
Henry  Cinq  bon  Prince  de  Chambord ! '  "  The  tears  filled 
his  eyes  as  he  raised  his  hat.  They  all  so  love  the  Comte 
de  Chambord;  he  does  unlimited  good  here  through  his 
agent.  Every  poor  person  who  asks  for  help  is  given  it, 
no  matter  where  they  may  come  from.  The  Comte  supports 
the  church,  the  school  and  three  Sisters  of  Charity  and 
supplies  all  the  medicines  which  they  dispense.  He  pays 
for  a  physician  when  he  is  needed  by  any  one  on  the  estate. 
Every  Tuesday  every  one  on  the  estate  can  cut  wood  in  the 
forest.  The  people  have  never  seen  him  but  once  for  he  is 
in  exile  but  they  worship  him  as  a  saint.  Oh,  it  is  so  sad 
the  misery  this  war  is  causing;  thousands  of  people  are 
hurrying  away  from  Paris  and  all  its  neighbourhood ;  even 
from  Orleans  which  is  about  thirty  miles  from  here,  they 


174  LETTEES 

1870 
Age  28 

are  escaping  saying  the  Prussians  are  expected.  Every 
day  men,  women  and  children,  footsore,  hungry  and  penni- 
less pass  by.  They  pass  through  here  although  it  is  quite 
out  of  the  way  because  they  know  they  will  be  fed  and 
given  a  little  money  through  the  generosity  of  the  Comte 
de  Chambord.  Today  it  is  said  the  Prussians  are  advanc- 
ing on  the  valley  of  the  Loire,  that  is  towards  us,  and  that 
in  a  week  at  most  they  will  be  at  Orleans.  That  town,  not 
being  fortified,  can  make  no  defense ;  perhaps  it  is  best 
they  cannot  for  us.  I  presume  we  shall  have  the  Uhlans 
scouring  the  country.  If  you  merely  give  them  what  they 
ask,  they  do  no  harm,  and  all  they  ask  usually  is  food.  We 
can  give  them  a  good  breakfast  here  for  we  live  liberally. 
.  .  .  I  wish,  nevertheless,  I  was  safe  in  quiet  home-like 
England;  there  is  some  talk  of  peace  being  brought  about 
and  I  hope  it  may ;  otherwise  it  will  be  months  before  Paris 
can  be  safe  again.  .  .  .  We  have  beautiful  fruit  here ; 
I  never  saw  more  splendid  pears;  they  are  very  large, 
yellow  as  gold  and  juicy  and  sweet.  The  grapes  and 
peaches  are  good  but  none  ever  taste  to  me  like  those  at 
home. 

Chambord,  September  22,  1870. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

We  thought  so  much  of  you  and  of  home  on  Saturday 
last,  the  17th.  I  was  very  homesick  all  day.  It  was  one 
of  those  perfect  days  such  as  only  come  in  the  autumn, 
when  one  can  only  be  thankful  for  life.  It  was  clear  and 
warm,  yet  fresh ;  we  determined  to  make  a  perfect  fete  and 
we  spent  eight  hours  out  of  doors.  We  walked  all  about 
the  park,  then  we  went  on  the  great  terrace  of  the  Chateau 
and  enjoyed  the  wonderful  view;  then  we  wandered  all 
over  the  building.  There  were  not  twenty  of  its  four  hun- 
dred rooms  that  we  did  not  visit;  such  queer,  concealed 
stairways,  built  into  the  thickness  of  the  wall  and  only 
about  two  feet  wide!  Such  tiny  rooms  hidden  away,  and 
only  reached  by  the  above  named  staircases.     Such  suites 


LETTERS  175 

1870 

Age  28 

of  royal  apartments  but  all  bare  and  desolate.  Then  there 
was  a  drill  of  the  Forest  Guards  and  the  young  men  of 
Chambord  who  are  forming  a  company  of  National  Guards, 
so  we  went  to  see  that.  Then  we  had  a  walk  along  the  river 
and  through  a  lovely  pine  wood;  then  home  to  dinner  at 
seven  when  we  drank  your  health,  you  may  be  sure.  After 
dinner,  we  sat  and  chatted  a  long  time  and  recalled  all  the 
anniversaries  of  our  wedding  day.  The  first  one  we  spent 
at  Milan  when  we  were  coming  to  meet  you  in  Switzerland ; 
the  second  was  in  Paris,  the  last  one  was  at  home  last  sum- 
mer, and  now  this  one  at  Chambord.  Later,  as  we  were 
walking  in  the  moonlight  we  saw  the  most  beautiful  meteor ; 
it  left  a  long  trail  of  light  and  seemed  to  grow  larger  and 
larger  as  it  reached  the  horizon,  and  at  last  I  thought  it 
burst,  for  it  threw  out  a  blue  light  just  as  a  rocket  might, 
and  then  disappeared.  The  evening  was  as  beautiful  as 
the  day.  I  hope  it  was  the  same  with  you,  and  that  you 
may  have  many,  many  more  of  them  and  all  happy.  You 
must  not  feel  the  least  anxious,  Mother  dear,  if  you  do  not 
get  my  letters  regularly  now;  be  sure  that  I  have  written 
but  the  mails  are  upset.  The  Prussians  are  at  Orleans  and 
it  may  easily  happen  that  our  postal  communications  may 
be  interrupted.  I  do  not  doubt  the  Uhlans  will  be  here 
within  the  next  five  or  six  days,  but  I  hope  we  shall  be  quite 
safe ;  there  is  nothing  here  to  tempt  them.  .  .  .  We  in- 
tend to  wait  a  month  here  to  see  if  any  change  takes  place 
in  the  aspect  of  things;  then  if  no  peace  is  in  sight  and 
Paris  is  still  besieged  we  must  make  a  move  somewhere.  I 
feel  sure  there  is  civil  war  in  store;  every  one  feels  it. 
Party  feeling  is  too  strong ;  only  the  extremity  in  which  the 
whole  nation  is  prevents  an  outbreak  now.  I  sometimes 
feel  as  though  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  go  to  England 
or  to  some  place  on  the  north  coast  where  we  would  be  in 
more  immediate  connection  with  home.  In  the  south,  at 
Lyons,  Marseilles,  etc.,  there  are  such  tumults  and  riots; 
and  strangers  in  a  place  are  always  looked  on  with  sus- 
picion and  are  almost  sure  to  be  seized  as  spies;  so  we 


176  LETTERS 

1870 
Age   28 

would  dread  to  go  to  a  new  place.  Here  we  are  known  and 
respected.  You  have  no  idea  how  dangerous  the  times  are ; 
even  French  people  are  seized  as  spies  and  maltreated  on 
the  slightest  suspicion,  whenever  they  are  not  well  known. 
Even  the  Marechal  de  Vaillant  was  arrested  in  Paris  one 
day,  and  he  one  of  the  Committee  of  Defence!  We  have 
had  quite  a  busy  day  here ;  this  morning  two  hundred  dirty 
''Gardes  Mobiles"  arrived  asking  for  bread;  it  seems  that 
yesterday  about  five  thousand  of  them  passed  through  St. 
Dye,  three  miles  from  here ;  the  first  comers  bought  or  stole 
all  there  was  to  eat,  so  the  last  comers  found  nothing.  They 
went  supperless  to  sleep,  could  not  obtain  for  love  or  money 
a  mouthful  of  food  this  morning,  so  came  here  where  no 
one  asks  for  bread  or  help  who  does  not  get  it.  These  two 
were  just  eating  when  eight  more  arrived,  dusty  and  half- 
starved.  They  were  all  fed ;  then  still  more  came.  I  never 
saw  such  a  forlorn,  ragged,  dirty,  footsore,  famished  lot; 
they  said  there  were  two  hundred  of  them  at  St.  Dye,  too 
footsore  to  seek  food  or  to  go  on  with  their  regiment,  and 
all  nearly  starved.  So  a  wagon  was  sent  off  to  a  neighbour- 
ing village  for  meat  and  extra  bread  and  the  twelve  went 
back  rejoicing  to  their  companions  with  45  pounds  of  bread 
and  heaps  of  meat  and  cabbage.  There  is  the  most  fearful 
want  of  system  in  the  French  army,  no  provision  whatever 
is  made  for  the  men  and  they  get  what  they  can  beg  or  buy, 
but  not  one  in  twenty  has  any  money  and  often  when  they 
offer  money  many  of  the  peasants  refuse  to  sell  food.  Later 
in  the  day  we  had  all  the  assistants,  officers,  surgeons,  doc- 
tors, etc.,  of  an  ambulance.  They  call  an  ambulance  here 
the  whole  concern ;  it  may  consist  of  a  dozen  or  twenty-five 
wagons  with  all  the  litters,  etc.,  necessary  for  the  wounded, 
medicines,  instruments,  provisions  and  twenty-five  or  thirty 
men.  They  came  to  see  the  Chateau.  I  hope  we  may  have 
some  wounded  sent  here;  there  are  twenty  beds  ready  in 
the  Castle  and  it  can  contain  easily  three  to  four  hundred. 
We  shall  not  have  so  many  as  that  I  suppose  but  it  will  be 
interesting  to  have  a  few  wounded  to  take  care  of.    I  make 


LETTERS  177 

1870 
Age  28 

lint  in  ray  leisure  moraents  and  have  quite  a  heap  of  it 
ready  for  when  it  may  be  required.  There  are  several  Sis- 
ters of  Charity  here;  the  Comte  de  Chambord  built  a  nice 
house  for  them  and  one  for  the  parish  Priest;  they  teach 
the  children  to  sew,  take  care  of  the  sick,  and  make  them- 
selves generally  useful;  the  Superior  is  an  excellent  doc- 
tress.  We  all  went  to  call  on  the  old  Priest  the  other  day ; 
he  is  such  a  dear  old  man ;  he  had  a  great  red  cheeked  apple 
in  his  pocket  for  the  baby  and  said  he  had  had  it  three  days 
hoping  to  see  her.  He  is  very  fond  of  her.  We  are  having 
the  most  lovely  weather  imaginable ;  for  three  weeks  the  sky 
has  been  a  deep  blue,  the  air  soft  and  the  nights  fresh  and 
clear.  It  is  like  our  lovely  autumn  days  at  home.  It  makes 
me  recall  all  the  things  I  used  to  do  on  such  days  as  these. 
I  can  imagine  you  in  the  carriage  going  to  the  pine  Avoods 
carrying  the  jars  for  butter,  giving  the  blackberry  children 
a  lift,  stopping  at  a  nice  chestnut  tree  to  gather  chestnuts, 
strolling  round  your  garden  after  dinner  and  enjoying 
your  delicious  grapes;  having  a  game  of  croquet  and  pick- 
ing the  Broadside  apples.  Is  it  possible  it  is  a  year  since 
I  was  doing  all  that?  It  does  not  seem  six  months.  Oh! 
there  is  no  place  like  home  in  the  summer, — and  the  winter 
used  to  be  pleasant,  too,  when  we  gathered  round  the  par- 
lour table  in  the  evenings.  But  I  am  grown  such  a  coAvard 
I  don't  believe  I  could  stand  the  cold  now  half  so  well  as 
I  could  in  the  times  before  I  ever  knew  a  milder  climate. 
As  yet  we  have  had  no  fires  here  except  in  the  great  kitchen 
where  we  sit  at  night.  My  little  daughter  has  become  quite 
a  companion;  she  chatters  so  intelligently  and  she  is  so 
amusing.  She  enjoys  life  here  and  is  out  of  doors  nearly 
all  day,  so  I  do  not  see  what  we  can  do  better  than  to  stay 
here  another  month.  0.  has  made  himself  very  popular  by 
joining  the  night  watch.  All  the  young  and  old  men  and 
the  Forest  Guards  of  the  estate,  about  fifty,  have  enrolled 
themselves  as  National  Guards.  They  drill  twice  a  week; 
they  have  only  ten  muskets  among  them !  They  patrol  from 
nine  o'clock  at  night  till  five  in  the  morning,  through  the 


178  LETTERS 

1870 
Age  28 

village  aijd  about  the  Chateau.  It  is  necessary  now  as 
there  are  a  good  many  bad  characters  loose  about  the  coun- 
try. 0.  had  his  first  billet  last  night  from  nine  till  one.  It 
is  quite  a  novelty  in  our  evening  stroll  to  be  stopped  by 
the  "Qui  vive?"  and  answer  "Amis!"  It  gives  one  a 
feeling  of  security  in  the  dead  of  night  to  hear  the  step 
of  the  patrol  and  the  ' '  All 's  well ! "  as  the  hours  strike  and 
to  hear  every  wagon  and  foot  passenger  halted  and  ques- 
tioned as  he  passes.  It  seems  likely  that  we  shall  have  a 
taste  of  the  war  on  this  side  of  Paris.  A  battle  is  expected 
between  Orleans  and  Pithiviers,  that  is,  about  forty  miles 
from  here,  I  should  not  care  to  be  at  Blois  or  Tours  now, 
which  are  full  of  raw  recruits,  gardes  mobiles  and  Red  Re- 
publicans who  wrangle  and  quarrel  and  fight  among  them- 
selves. We  are  very  thankful  to  be  in  such  a  quiet  retired 
corner. 

Chambord,  October  14,  1870. 
My  Dear  S. : 

.  .  .  I  hope  now  to  get  my  letters  regularly,  always 
supposing  the  Prussians  have  not  cut  our  railway,  in  which 
case  we  will  be  in  rather  a  strait.  At  present  the  worthy 
gentlemen  are  making  themselves  comfortable  at  Orleans 
and  a  hundred  Uhlans  are  taking  a  general  view  of  the 
surrounding  country.  Yesterday  they  breakfasted  at 
Meung,  fifteen  miles  from  here,  and  today  they  are  pic- 
nicking at  Beaugency,  ten  miles  from  us.  I  presume  in  a 
few  days  we  shall  have  them  to  dine  with  us  here.  The 
people  seem  to  suppose  they  will  dine  07i  us!  It  is  quite 
exciting  to  have  one  farmer  after  another  come  in  with 
the  ' '  latest  news. ' '  We  know  through  one  what  the  Uhlans 
have  been  having  for  breakfast,  from  another,  escaping 
with  his  cattle — that  they  had  finished  eating  and  were 
mounting  their  horses,  and  so  on  through  the  day.  Just 
now  a  farmer  who  left  here  at  four  o'clock  has  returned 
saying  he  could  not  get  home  as  the  Prussians  were  only 
twelve  miles  from  here  and  no  one  was  allowed  to  go  furth- 


LETTERS  179 

1870 

Age  28 

er  on  the  road  than  Mer,  eight  miles  away.  I  am  writing 
now  at  ten  o'clock  P.  M.  Just  as  we  finished  dinner,  twelve 
French  officers  came  in  with  their  horses;  they  wanted 
dinner,  they  wanted  beds,  and  the  house  was  full  and  the 
larder  empty!  They  are  all  Legitimists,  young  nobles  of 
the  countryside  who  often  come  here  for  the  hunting.  I 
could  not  but  admire  the  coolness  and  capacity  of  our 
cooks,  the  host  and  hostess ;  they  set  to  work  and  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  had  a  very  nice  dinner  of  five  courses 
ready.  The  gentlemen  will  sleep  almost  anywhere,  they 
don't  seem  to  mind.  Their  grooms  sat  down  to  eat  with  their 
masters.  I  do  not  doubt  that  tomorrow  we  will  have  an  as- 
sortment of  Prussian  officers  to  dinner;  I  can  assure  you 
we  are  in  a  very  unsettled  condition. 

Chambord,  November  19,  1870. 
My  Dear  M. : 

I  am  feeling  very  discouraged;  affairs  drag  on  in  such 
an  unsatisfactory  way.  Every  day  we  look  for  a  great,  and 
I  hope,  decisive  battle  between  the  Army  of  the  Loire  and 
the  Prussians  near  Etampes.  It  must  take  place  next  week, 
every  one  says,  and  I  hope  that  may  settle  things  one  way 
or  the  other.  We  meant  to  have  left  here  last  week  but 
were  prevented.  Monday,  rain  or  shine,  sick  or  well,  we 
really  mean  to  go  to  Tours  and  there  await  the  result  of 
the  expected  battle.  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  we  may 
have  to  do  beyond  that;  perhaps  go  to  Antwerp  and 
Holland.  Today  we  see  that  Russia  is  getting  unruly  and 
that  England,  Italy,  Austria  and  Turkey  are  all  putting 
their  fingers  into  the  pie.  It  looks  like  a  general  European 
war.  Just  now  we  have  a  company  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty-four  men  encamped  here ;  the  Captain  says  their 
battalion  was  ordered  from  Rouen  but  on  the  way  the  car 
in  which  his  company  and  some  others  were,  got  switched 
off,  or  as  he  expresses  it  ''the  locomotive  took  the  wrong 
road,"  and  they  found  themselves  at  Blois!  The  Captain 
went  to  the  Commandant  at  Blois  and  related  his  plight; 


180  LETTERS 

1870 
Ago   28 

the  Commandant  said, — well,  he  was  sorry,  they  were  not 
needed  at  Blois  at  all  but  he  supposed  it  was  not  worth 
while  their  going  back  and  they  could  stay  at  Blois.  After 
a  while  he  transferred  them  here  and  the  Captain  says  they 
are  completely  forgotten  and  may  stay  at  Chambord 
through  all  eternity,  for  the  Government  is  not  likely  to 
take  the  trouble  to  move  them  on.  The  Government,  by  the 
way,  will  not  let  them  buy  their  provisions  in  the  village 
because  it  buys  them  wholesale  at  Blois ;  at  the  same  time 
the  officials  there  neglect  to  send  the  food  here  and  the 
day  before  yesterday  the  poor  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  men  had  not  a  mouthful  of  food.  The  Captain  had 
gone  the  day  before  to  Blois  to  beg  for  food  and  was 
promised  some  but  none  arrived,  so  the  Captain  bought  all 
the  vegetables  he  could  here  with  his  own  money,  as  he  has 
done  fifty  times  before,  and  that  was  all  they  had  to  eat. 
I  saw  the  poor  men  and  decided  to  go  to  the  baker  and 
buy  all  the  bread  he  had,  about  seventy  pounds.  We  dis- 
tributed it  to  the  soldiers ;  you  should  have  seen  the  grati- 
tude of  the  poor  fellows.  The  carelessness  of  the  Govern- 
ment is  unbelievable.  Today,  at  last,  some  meat  and  bread 
has  arrived  and  the  men  have  had  a  good  dinner.  The  men 
are  pretty  furious  against  the  Government  that  neglects 
them  and  lets  them  starve  and  endure  all  sorts  of  needless 
hardships.  We  have  thirty  men  in  hospital,  sick  with  fever 
or  dysentery,  or  sore  throat.  The  Lieutenant  is  ill,  the  offi- 
cers cannot  dine  here  at  the  Hotel  any  more  because  they 
have  spent  all  their  money  in  feeding  their  men  and  must 
wait  till  they  can  receive  money  from  home, — and  they 
are  not  rich.  Everything  seems  at  loose  ends  in  the  French 
army  and  present  Government. 

Hotel  de  V  Univers,  Tours,  December  8,  1870. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

Since  I  wrote  last  there  have  been  some  changes  in  the 
state  of  affairs;  besides  our  own  change  to  this  comfort- 
able place,  where  we  are  having  quite  cold  weather.    Yes- 


LETTERS  181 

1870 
Age  23 

terday  we  had  the  news  of  a  sortie  of  the  Army  at  Paris 
commanded  by  General  Duerot,  which  had  been  successful 
as  far  as  it  went.  Today  there  was  news  of  a  ''great  vic- 
tory ' '  gained  by  the  Army  of  the  Loire ;  but  on  reading  the 
details  it  seems  a  small  affair  of  no  great  importance.  The 
people  are  naturally  much  excited  and  I  think  the  Govern- 
ment exaggerates  the  news  in  order  to  stir  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  soldiers.  From  all  I  have  yet  read  I  see  nothing  to 
support  the  expectations  of  many  that  in  a  few  days  Paris 
will  be  open ;  and  the  report  that  provisions  left  here  this 
morning  for  Paris.  I  think  we  are  on  the  eve  of  great 
events  but  I  am  very  doubtful  of  the  result  and  think  we 
should  be  wiser  to  leave  as  we  had  planned  for  Antwerp 
and  Holland.  .  .  .  We  have  just  heard  that  the  train 
for  the  north  for  two  days  will  be  taken  entirely  by  troops, 
so  our  plans  are  delayed,  in  fact  there  is  no  use  in  making 
any  in  this  distracted  country.  I  hear  it  whispered  today 
that  the  news  is  not  good  and  that  the  Government  is  anx- 
ious about  the  military  position.  The  Army  of  the  Loire 
has  evidently  not  yet  been  as  successful  as  was  hoped. 
Duerot  and  his  120,000  men,  who  made  the  sortie  from 
Paris,  have  not  had  the  assistance  they  expected  from  the 
Loire  army,  and  there  is  danger  of  their  being  cut  off  by 
the  Prussians.  Everything  hangs  on  the  expected  battle. 
If  the  French  win  Paris  is  saved  and  the  Prussians  will 
have  to  look  to  themselves;  if  the  Prussians  win  they  will 
come  rushing  all  over  this  country  and  we  will  be  better 
anywhere  than  here.  Today  regiment  after  regiment  has 
been  marching  past  the  Hotel  to  the  railway  station.  They 
are  being  sent  as  reinforcements.  I  have  seen  such  numbers 
of  troops,  that  if  numbers  could  win  the  French  must  have 
the  victory.  Our  dining  room  is  brilliant  with  every  imag- 
inable uniform.  Generals,  with  their  breasts  covered  with 
Orders,  Hussars,  with  their  braided  and  furred  uniforms, 
Garibaldian  officers,  in  brilliant  scarlet  blouses,  Chasseurs, 
"  f ranc-tireurs "  in  every  imaginable  costume  make  a  very 
glowing  and  picturesque  scene.    How  much  more  charmiiig- 


182  LETTERS 

1870 
Age  28 

colours  are  in  dress  than  the  abominable  black  and  white 
of  our  modern  male  costume !     .     .     . 

It  was  really  pleasant  when  we  left  Chambord  to  find 
how  much  we  were  loved  there.     Old  and  young  came  to 
bid  us  good-bye;  the  few  sick  soldiers  left  there  said  they 
would  miss  me ;  the  good  Sisters  of  Charity  assured  us  we 
had  been  a  blessing  to  the  village!     The  Captain  and  all 
his  men  were  more  grateful  than  the  little  we  had  done  for 
them  deserved.    The  "Maire"  and  Municipal  Council  had 
a  meeting  and  gave  0.  a  vote  of  thanks  for  his  services! 
They    also    gave   us    a    recommendation    to    officials    and 
municipalities  generally  to  let  us  "pass  freely"  and  to  give 
us  all  necessary  aid  wherever  we  went.     This  was  signed 
and  sealed  with  a  huge  municipal  stamp  and  was  quite 
imposing.    You  would  have  supposed  we  were  public  bene- 
factors!   I  thought  the  village  in  general  would  never  let 
K.  go,  and  a  mile  out  of  the  village  they  came  running  after 
us  to  bid  us  God-speed.    I  made  K.  's  fete  day  an  excuse  for 
sending  a  turkey  and  some  bottles  of  wine  to  the  Sisters, 
whom  I  found  were  very  poor  and  were  giving  their  little 
resources  to  pay  for  the  washing  of  the  soldiers.     I  had 
paid  a  little  toward  this,  the  washing  of  a  hundred  shirts, 
and  it  was  not  expensive,  as  each  shirt  cost  two  cents  to  be 
washed,  boiled  and  dried !    Our  life  at  Chambord  was  sim- 
ple and  regular,  monotonous  perhaps,  but  it  had  its  very 
bright  side;  we  all  love  the  place  dearly.     We  have  just 
been  to  inquire  if  there  will  be  a  train  tomorrow  but  the 
railway  officials  say  the  Government  has  taken  all  the  trains 
for  transporting  troops  and  no  one  knows  when  passenger 
trains  will  begin  to  run  again;  so  here  we  still  stay.     A 
company  of  Prussian  prisoners  has  just  passed  the  Hotel ; 
they  look  clean  and  well  dressed  and  in  better  condition 
than  the  generality  of  French  soldiers.     The  news  this 
morning  is  not  cheering;  the  Army  of  the  Loire  has  been 
repulsed  slightly ;  they  were  fighting  all  day  yesterday  but 
the  result  is  not  yet  known.     If  the  news  were  good  we 
would  surely  know  it.    Nothing  is  known  of  General  Du- 


LETTEES  183 

1870 
Age  28 

crot ;  every  one  looks  blue.  Bad  news  only  comes  filtering 
through  from  Balgian  and  English  papers;  a  great  many 
Americans  and  English  are  here,  chiefly  newspaper  cor- 
respondents. 

Tours,  December  7,  1870. 
My  Dear  S. : 

.  .  .  Yesterday  the  trains  ran  again;  we  were  all 
ready  to  go  when  ' '  The  Assyrian  came  down  like  a  wolf  on 
the  fold,"  as  Byron  says,  or  as  the  papers  had  it,  "The 
Prussians  came  down  on  Rouen ' ' — and  ruined  all  our  plans. 
At  present  we  have  the  Army  of  the  Loire  in  retreat  on 
one  side  of  us,  a  mythical  army  without  a  name  on  the 
other  side  at  Le  Mans ;  the  Prussians  at  Orleans,  the  Prus- 
sians at  Rouen,  the  Prussians  at  Vendome,  all  waiting  and 
ready  to  pounce  on  us  the  moment  we  make  a  move,  I  am 
sure.  We  think  now  of  going  straight  into  the  midst  of  the 
Prussian  army  as  being  the  simplest  way  out  of  the  trouble. 
"We  have  run  away  from  them  so  often  that  we  now  propose 
trying  the  method  of  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns  and 
going  through  them.  Goodness  knows  what  we  will  do.  I 
am  heartily  tired  of  making  plans.  This  Hotel  is  so 
crammed  that  we  are  not  very  well  served,  but  "  a  la  guerre 
comme  a  la  guerre,"  is  the  motto  appropriate  now  and  we 
thank  God  we  are  not  worse  off.  Truly  we  have  reason  to 
be  thankful  that  we  are  not  more  nearly  interested  in  the 
war  than  we  are.  When  we  see  the  wounded  carried  past 
our  windows,  when  we  see  the  poor,  half  frozen  prisoners 
march  by,  when  we  heard  the  agonizing  cries  of  the  poor 
young  wife  in  the  next  room  to  us  when  they  came  to  tell 
her  her  husband  was  killed,  the  young  Due  de  Luynes,  we 
could  only  feel  how  little  we  have  to  complain  of  when  so 
many  hearts  are  suffering  agonies  of  anxiety,  doubt  and 
fear  around  us ;  when  so  many  hearths  and  homes  are  being 
made  desolate  every  moment.  It  is  heart-rending  I  can 
assure  you. 


184  LETTERS 

1870 
Age  28 

Thursday: — AVell!  the  Government  is  going.  At  this 
present  moment  there  is  a  general  "Sauve  qui  pent";  am- 
bassadors, attaches,  secretaries,  ministers  and  office  seekers 
are  rushing  to  the  station  and  vehicles  are  rolling  through 
the  streets  towards  the  same  goal ;  the  Hotel  is  in  confusion, 
because  it  is  known  that  the  Prussians  are  marching 
towards  us. 

Friday  Morning: — There  were  nineteen  persons  at 
breakfast  this  morning,  instead  of  the  two  hundred  of  yes- 
terday! Almost  every  creature  left  last  night;  they  say  a 
train  left  every  hour. 

Tours,  December  9,  1870. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Things  have  gone  badly  since  I  last  wrote  you,  as  you 
will  have  seen  long  before  this.  The  sorties  from  Paris  have 
done  no  good;  the  Army  of  the  Loire  is  driven  back  and 
kept  at  bay,  Gambetta  has  dismissed  General  d'Aurelles  de 
Paladine  and  now  the  armies  are  going  on  pretty  much  on 
their  own  hook.  What  you  may  not  have  heard  is  that  in 
the  retreat  from  Orleans  the  other  day  a  number  of  the 
mobiles  threw  away  their  arms  and  refused  to  fight.  The 
number  was  too  great;  they  dared  not  fusilade  them,  nor 
could  they  spare  so  many  men.  There  is  terrible  demoral- 
ization ;  I  think  the  end  is  near,  but  things  may  take  a  new 
turn.  We  are  still  quite  comfortable  here  but  it  is  probable 
that  Monday  we  will  leave  for  St.  Malo.  Thence  we  can 
go,  if  necessary,  to  Jersey  or  elsewhere.  I  presume  the 
enemy  will  not  stay  long  about  Rouen  and  Dieppe  but  will 
push  south  and  then  we  can  slip  through  to  Antwerp  and 
Holland.  In  any  case  at  St.  Malo  we  shall  be  out  of  all 
danger  and  you  may  feel  quite  easy  about  us.  The  weather 
has  moderated  a  little  but  is  far  from  being  pleasant.  Tours 
is  dreadfully  dull ;  in  spite  of  the  general  tension ;  we  have 
seen  so  many  Spahis,  so  many  Arabs,  so  many  Turcos,  Gari- 
baldians,  Franc-tireurs,  Mobiles,  Regulars,  Hussars  and  Gen- 
erals that  we  are  quite  tired  of  them  all.     Once  in  a  while 


LETTERS  185 

1870 
Age  28 

a  few  prisoners  pass;  the  hotel  is  emptying  fast.  The 
Italian  Ambassador,  who  was  here,  left  this  morning  as 
did  all  the  others  to  follow  the  Government  to  Bordeaux. 
There  was  grumbling  enough  about  it  as  they  had  been 
obliged  to  take  houses  and  were  just  settled.  We  hear  such 
funny  stories  about  this  minister  and  that  one;  about  M. 
Gambetta  and  M.  Crenieux  through  the  valets  and  "fem- 
mes  de  chambre ' '  who  tell  A.,  K.  's  nurse,  all  the  gossip  of 
the  servant's  hall.  Many  of  them  have  their  meals  at  the 
Hotel.  It  is  amusing  and  so  true  that  no  man  is  a  hero  to 
his  valet.  I  must  close  as  it  is  late ;  the  omnibuses  and  car- 
riages are  rolling  through  the  streets  taking  the  crowds  to 
the  station  who  could  not  get  off  last  night.  Troops  are 
marching  by  and  wagons  of  military  stores  thundering  on 
their  way,  though  it  is  midnight.  The  noise  and  confusion 
never  cease.  They  say  the  station  today  was  a  sight  to  be- 
hold ;  such  mountains  of  baggage,  such  a  rush  of  screaming 
people,  such  crowds  of  soldiers,  dragoons,  horses,  stores, 
arms,  provisions,  all  waiting  to  be  shipped.  And  alas! 
such  a  number  of  wounded ;  it  is  heart-rending  to  see  them. 

Tours,  December  11,  1870. 
Since  I  wrote  you  we  have  had  news  of  Chambord ;  the 
Prussians  were  there  yesterday;  there  was  a  strong  force 
of  French  troops  in  the  Park;  the  Prussians,  in  inferior 
numbers,  surprised  them,  and  they  were  kept  back  for  a 
time  but  finally  took  Chambord!  Last  night  they  were 
across  the  river  from  Blois.  The  bridge  across  the  Loire 
has  been  blown  up.  They  summoned  the  town  of  Blois  to 
surrender  and  the  people  were  going  to  comply  when  sud- 
denly M.  Gambetta  arrived  from  Beaugency;  he  ordered 
the  town  to  resist  and  defend  itself,  but  backed  out  himself 
and  came  on  a  special  train  to  Tours  leaving  Blois  to  make 
the  best  defence  she  could.  I  do  not  yet  know  if  the  Prus- 
sians have  entered  there  or  not.  Another  body  of  Prussians 
is  coming  from  another  direction  toward  us  and  it  is  very 
likely  they  will  make  their  appearance  in  a  few  days.    The 


186  LETTERS 

1870 

Age  28 

town  will  make  no  resistance  and  every  one  says  they  will 
merely  pass  through  as  this  is  not  an  important  point.     I 
think  we  shall  stay ;  several  English  gentlemen  and  Ameri- 
cans who  are  at  this  hotel  say  there  is  not  the  least  danger 
for  foreigners.     .     .     .     It  is  heart-rending  to  witness  the 
sights  here ;  there  is  no  system  or  discipline  about  the  con- 
duct of  the  soldiers.     They  wander  about  the  streets  and 
seem  to  be  ordered  hither  and  thither  without  reason.    The 
most  pitiable  sight  is  that  of  the  wounded  and  sick ;  a  train- 
full  arrives,  no  one  meets  them,  no  one  knows  what  to  do 
for  them ;  they  are  turned  out  of  the  train  and  left,  often  to 
shiver  and  suffer  all  night  in  the  station  till  the  Government 
is  ready  to  send  them  on  again.    Today  two  hundred  were 
turned  out  of  the  ambulance  at  one  o'clock  and  sent  to  the 
station  to  go  to  Bordeaux  in  a  train  at  four  o'clock.    Those 
who  could  drag  their  stiff  and  wounded  legs  along  were 
made  to  walk;  the  few  who  were  too  ill  were  rattled  along 
in  hand  carts  and  all  had  to  carry  their  heavy  sacks  them- 
selves.    When  they  reached  the  station  they  had  to  wait 
outside  till  four  o  'clock  on  a  chilly  damp  day.    I  cried  with 
pity  to  see  them.     Poor  fever  stricken  creatures  shivering 
with  cold.     I  went  from  one  to  another  and  they  looked 
grateful  even  for  a  kind  word.     One  poor  fellow  with  a 
wounded  leg,  hands  cut,  and  as  thin  as  a  shadow  from  fever, 
was  crying  from  very  weakness.     He  had  been  there  an 
hour,  had  two  hours  more  to  wait  and  could  only  lie  on  the 
cold,  wet  paving  stones.     I  got  him  some  hot  soup  in  the 
restaurant  and  slipped  a  little  money  into  his  hand ;  he 
sobbed  out  that  nobody  had  been  so  kind  to  him  since  he 
was  wounded.    A  woman  seeing  him  came  to  her  door  and 
asked  him  to  come  in  to  the  fire,  so  we  helped  him  in  and  I 
left  him  in  comfort.     He  was  from  Calais  but  was  being 
sent  to  Bordeaux !  if  they  only  would  let  him  go  home.    An- 
other one  was  so  weak  and  coughed  so  that  he  was  really 
not  able  to  carry  his  sack,  so  0.  took  it  from  him  and  car- 
ried it  to  the  station.     He  was  so  feeble  he  could  hardly 
speak,  but  the  grateful  look  in  his  eyes  was  eloquent.    It  is 


LETTERS  187 

1870 

Age  28 

hard  to  see  so  much  suffering  and  be  able  to  do  so  little. 
.  .  .  Today  an  officer  tells  me  that  the  Prefect  has  or- 
dered all  the  arms  of  the  Gardes  Nationales  sent  in  and 
they  as  well  as  all  the  troops  are  to  be  sent  away  by  rail  to 
Angers,  so  when  the  Prussians  come  they  will  find  no  arms ; 
no  defence  will  be  made  and  if  this  policy  is  thoroughly 
carried  out  there  will  be  no  danger  to  the  town.  Today 
the  boulevard  in  front  of  the  Hotel  presents  a  strange  spec- 
tacle ;  it  looks  as  if  there  were  a  retreat  or  general  flight ; 
one  minute  a  few  artillery-men  with  a  gun-carriage,  with- 
out the  cannon,  pass,  then  heterogeneous  troops,  then  a  regi- 
ment of  dirty,  half-starved,  lame  men  going  to  the  station ; 
groups  of  twenty  or  thirty  men  with  arms  stacked  under 
the  leafless  trees  are  waiting  for  the  order  to  march  off. 
Half  of  the  men  have  no  arms  and  half  have  no  baggage, 
and  few  have  good  shoes.  Many  have  one  foot  bound  up  in 
rags  or  with  a  strap  of  leather  that  represents  a  boot; 
trousers  in  rags,  no  caps,  often  an  old  handkerchief  tied 
around  their  heads;  it  is  a  pitiful  sight  and  I  am  very 
weary  of  all  this  misery  and  desolation. 

December  19. — There  seems  today  a  prospect  of  there 
being  a  grand  battle  near  Le  Mans,  where  the  French  are 
massing  all  their  available  forces.  The  Army  of  General 
Chanzy  is  terrible  demoralized  and  Bourbaki  has  been  or- 
dered to  support  him.  Chanzy  has  retreated  from  Ven- 
dome  and  of  course  every  retreat  discourages  the  troops 
more.  If  once  they  could  defeat  the  Prussians  and  make  a 
bold  dash  at  Paris  to  aid  Trochu  and  Ducrot  no  one  knows 
how  the  face  of  things  might  change.  Affairs  might  take 
an  entirely  new  aspect.  You  probably  get  the  news  more 
promptly  than  we  do.  ...  A  "Queen's  Messenger" 
arrived  here  today  from  England  on  his  way  to  Bordeaux 
and  I  talked  with  him.  He  says  that  in  England  the  gen- 
eral opinion  is  that  the  war  may  last  a  long  time  yet,  and 
that  even  the  fall  of  Paris  will  not  put  an  end  to  it.  I  be- 
gin to  think  so  myself.  Our  weather  here  is  anything  but 
agreeable;  chilly  and  damp  without  being  positively  cold. 


188  LETTEES 

1870 
Age  28 

I  see  there  has  been  a  fall  of  snow  at  Naples  and  the  weath- 
er is  very  cold  at  Pan.  Yesterday  there  was  a  review  of 
five  thousand  troops  by  General  Pisani  Jourdain;  it  was  in- 
teresting. Almost  all  the  cavalry  were  mounted  on  small 
Arab  horses;  one  of  the  officers  had  one  of  the  prettiest 
little  creatures  I  have  ever  seen ;  snow  white  with  a  charm- 
ing head  and  fine  eyes,  delicate  limbs  and  a  beautiful  gait. 
.  .  .  Your  last  letter  was  only  nineteen  days  coming 
which  in  these  times  is  not  long.  I  hope  when  I  get  to 
St.  Malo  I  shall  have  them  in  even  a  shorter  time.  I  don't 
say  we  shall  positively  go  there  because  in  this  country  at 
present  man  proposes  and  the  Prussians  dispose,  but  in  all 
probability  we  shall  leave  sometime  this  week.  At  the  pres- 
ent moment  Tours  is  as  dull  as  dull  can  be;  no  French 
troops,  no  Prussian  troops,  and  not  much  prospect  of  any- 
thing doing  for  some  time.  This  evening  two  men  arrived 
from  Paris  who  left  there  Saturday  night  in  a  private  bal- 
loon; they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Government;  they 
express  themselves  as  astounded  at  the  want  of  order  in 
the  provinces.  In  Paris  they  think  that  the  whole  of  France 
is  rising  like  one  man  with  no  other  thought  than  to  succour 
Paris;  they  are  surprised  to  find  such  indifference  to  its 
fate  here.  They  tell  us  that  one  pound  of  meat  is  now  al- 
lowed to  eleven  persons,  but  that  the  Parisians  are  deter- 
mined to  hold  out  till  the  last  gasp. 

December  26. — We  had  a  dismal  Christmas  day  yester- 
day; so  dismal  that  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  try  and 
forget  what  day  it  was  and  pass  it  over  like  any  other. 
Not  one  incident  marked  it  as  a  holiday;  our  weather  is 
very  cold  and  we  have  to  stay  in  doors  most  of  the  time.  I 
wish  that  all  this  woeful  time  that  I  have  passed  in  France 
since  the  war  began  I  had  been  at  home ;  if  it  does  not  soon 
finish  you  will  see  me  at  home  before  you  expected.  I  am 
very  homesick  and  have  only  one  desire,  which  is  to  get  out 
of  France  and  get  to  America.  This  winter  is  so  unusually 
severe  beside,  I  see  they  have  had  snow  at  Nice  and  Naples. 
,     .     .     It  is  incredible  how  quickly  you  receive  news  at 


LETTERS  189 

1870 
Age  28 

home.  Here  at  Tours,  with  the  trains  running  and  the  tele- 
graph working,  we  do  not  know  in  the  least  what  General 
Chanzy  is  doing  at  Le  Mans,  nor  have  we  had  an  idea  of 
what  is  going  on  at  Lyons  or  at  Bordeaux.  Bourbaki  is 
trying  to  conceal  his  movements  and  we  only  know  that  he 
is  near  Bourges.  I  think  he  is  trying  to  steal  round  to 
Paris,  but  the  Prussians  are  more  stupid  than  we  think 
them  if  they  let  him  approach  it.  I  get  your  letters  now  in 
about  nineteen  days. 


1871 
Age  29 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  OF  1871 


LETTERS 

Tours,  January  1,  1871. 
My  Very  Dear  Mother: 

A  Happy  New  Year  to  you  and  all  the  dear  ones  at 
home.  I  hope  you  have  had  a  happy  day  and  I  am  sure  if 
I  could  have  spent  it  with  you  I  should  have  been  the  hap- 
piest of  the  happy.  You  can  fancy  that  here  the  day  has 
not  been  gay;  every  one  is  in  too  great  desolation  to  care 
for  any  festivities,  and  we  feel  too  much  the  influence  of 
the  misery  about  us  to  care  to  have  any  diversion.  We  have 
spent  a  quiet  and  rather  sad  day;  the  only  cheering  thing 
was  K. 's  rejoicing  over  the  simple  presents  we  gave  her. 
It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  her  delighted  little  face.  As  neith- 
er 0.  nor  I  cared  to  give  each  other  presents  we  concluded 
to  spend  our  spare  money  on  the  sick,  the  poor  and  the 
wounded.  This  last  week  has  been  a  dull  one;  we  have 
had  no  news  of  any  consequence.  There  have  been  some 
skirmishes  within  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  of  us,  but  they 
were  slight.  At  present  the  Prussians  have  left  this  section. 
Whether  they  will  come  back  remains  to  be  seen.  We  get 
no  reliable  news  except  through  the  London  Times  and,  of 
course,  that  is  four  days  old  when  we  get  it.  We  might 
better  be  anywhere  than  at  the  seat  of  war  as  far  as  getting 
news  goes.  From  Paris  we  hear  divergent  accounts;  one 
person  writes  that  everything  looks  black  and  the  city  can- 
not hold  out  another  month ;  another  person  tells  you  they 
can  well  keep  up  for  two  or  even  three  months  and  that  all 
is  going  on  famously.    The  former  news,  I  notice,  is  always 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  191 

1871 
Age  29 

from  private  letters,  the  latter  from  Grovernment  reports. 
The  winter  is  dragging  on  and  there  seems  no  more  chance 
now  of  the  war  ending  than  there  did  in  September.  When 
the  weather  is  very  cold  I  declare  that  I  will  go  to  the  south, 
but  even  at  Biarritz  and  Pau  there  is  deep  snow  and  bitter 
cold  weather.  We  are  perplexed  as  ever  as  to  what  to  do; 
even  if  the  war  is  over  in  two  months  we  shall  have  the 
civil  war  which  is  sure  to  follow.  Just  think  how  the  poor 
soldiers  must  suffer  this  fearfully  cold  weather ;  it  keeps  me 
awake  at  night  thinking  of  them.  They  say  that  many  are 
frozen  to  death.  A  good  many  wounded  have  come  in  to- 
day; there  was  a  skirmish  near  Vendome;  the  Prussians 
lost  two  hundred  men  I  believe  who  were  taken  prisoners. 
The  news  from  Paris  today  is  not  good ;  the  Prussians  have 
taken  Avron;  I  believe  they  will  soon  begin  to  bombard 
Paris.  Wliat  do  you  think  at  home  of  the  French  chances 
of  success  in  the  end?  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  they 
can  do  anything  except  accept  such  terms  as  Prussia  will 
offer  them,  I  am  now  reading  some  charming  French  tales 
by  Erckmann-Chatrian ;  they  are  all  about  Alsace  and  the 
Vosges.  I  have  never  read  anything  that  pleased  me  more. 
At  present  I  am  reading  those  called  "The  Con- 
script," "Waterloo,"  "Madame  Therese,"  "The  Blocus" 
"1 'Homme  du  Peuple."  They  are  all  about  the  wars  of 
Napoleon  and  the  Revolution.  I  have  just  finished  the 
"Blocus,"  which  is  the  history  of  the  siege  of  Phalsbourg 
in  1814;  it  is  specially  interesting  at  this  time  when  the 
little  town  has  just  surrendered  after  another  siege.  I  am 
reading  these  stories  in  the  French  popular  edition  which 
is  finely  illustrated.  I  wish  I  knew  if  they  had  ever  been 
translated  for  I  should  like  to  do  it  myself.  M.  Erckmann 
is  still  living  and  is  going  to  write  some  more  tales  about 
the  present  war.  There  was  an  interesting  letter  in  the 
London  Times  from  some  one  who  had  been  to  Phalsbourg 
and  seen  M.  Erckmann  there.  M.  Chatrian  is  the  friend 
who  has  written  parts  of  these  stories ;  I  do  not  know  if  he 
is  living  yet  or  not. 


192  LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

^  Tours,  January  6,  1871. 

Today  we  were  walking  on  the  ''Mail"  when  we  heard 
cannonading,  so  we  went  quickly  to  the  ramparts  along  the 
river  and  thence  we  could  hear  the  sound  so  plainly  that  it 
seemed  not  more  than  five  miles  away.  I  counted  fifteen 
cannon  shots  and  "Mitrailleuses"  in  one  minute.  We  did 
not  count  the  musketry  rounds,  which  were  frequent  but 
fainter.  I  have  not  heard  the  cannon  so  distinctly  before 
except  when  the  Prussians  bombarded  Tours,  then  as  you 
may  fancy  it  shook  the  windows,  but  today  each  discharge 
seemed  to  shake  the  air.  The  river  was  full  of  floating  ice 
which  moved  with  the  lazy  current.  I  leaned  on  the  wall 
and  looked  at  the  river  and  listened  to  the  cannon,  till  all 
at  once  I  found  myself  quite  dizzy  and  almost  sick.  The 
motion  of  the  ice  and  constant  booming  affected  us  both 
most  unpleasantly.  Coming  back  through  the  Rue  Royale 
we  met  the  Doctor  of  the  regiment  that  was  at  Chambord ; 
poor  man!  When  he  stopped  suddenly  before  us  I  stared 
at  him  in  utter  unrecognition ;  he  was  so  pale,  so  thin  and 
ragged,  so  generally  miserable  looking  that  I  never  could 
have  believed  it  was  the  jolly,  well  dressed,  healthy  look- 
ing fellow  I  had  known  at  Chambord.  He  was  wounded 
in  the  leg  a  week  ago  at  Chateau  Renault  and  he  was  on 
his  way  to  Bordeaux  to  recruit.  He  had  been  wandering 
about  the  country  for  a  month  and  he  had  suffered  from 
cold  and  wet  and  hunger  and  fatigue  and  at  last  they  met 
the  enemy  and  he  was  wounded  and  brought  here.  He  was 
just  dragging  himself  to  the  station  from  the  ambulance; 
there  was  no  carriage  to  take  him  as  all  the  hospital  ones 
have  gone  out  to  the  battle  today.  Of  course  we  did  what 
we  could  to  help  him  and  as  he  went  along  holding  0.  's  arm 
he  told  us  all  that  he  and  our  poor  friend.  Captain  Latapie, 
and  the  company  had  suffered.  He  almost  cried.  With 
his  leg  tied  up,  his  thin,  bent  figure,  his  pale,  and  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  grimy  face,  he  was  a  piteous  object. 
He  did  not  know  anything  of  his  company  since  he  was 
wounded,  but  he  thought  they  were  fighting  both  yesterday 


LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL  193 

1871 
Age  29 

and  today.  But,  oh  dear !  the  poor  Doctor,  miserable  as  he 
looked,  was  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  awful  looking 
objects  that  pass  in  crowds  every  day.  You,  with  your 
pitying,  sensitive  heart,  would  cry  your  eyes  out  to  see 
them.  Last  night,  just  before  dinner,  there  passed  about 
fifty  poor  wretches,  tlieir  clothes  in  rags,  some  of  them  with 
the  soles  of  their  shoes  hanging  by  two  stitches,  and  show- 
ing their  poor,  dirty  sore  feet,  with  a  little  straw  tied 
around  them.  No  stockings,  and  so  dirty  that  they  were 
black.  Some  had  their  heads  tied  up  with  rags,  some  had 
their  arms  and  hands  wounded,  some  coughed,  some  limped, 
some  crawled  along.  They  trailed  past  to  the  ambulance 
where  they  were  to  pass  the  night,  and  this  morning  went 
wearily  back  to  the  station  to  be  sent  to  Bordeaux  or  some 
hospital  in  the  south.  It  is  heart-rending  to  see  such  misery 
and  to  be  able  to  do  little  or  nothing  to  alleviate  it ;  I  can 
assure  you  it  is  anything  but  gay  here;  I  never  saw  such 
desolation  in  my  life,  nor  realized  the  horrors  of  war  before. 
Not  even  during  our  war,  for  we  were  far  from  the  seat 
of  it,  and  here  we  are  in  the  midst  of  all  the  misery.  You 
must  excuse  me  if  I  don't  send  you  an  animated  letter;  I 
feel  forlorn  and  gloomy,  seeing  every  one  about  me  so,  and 
there  is  nothing  to  tell  you  but  of  the  horrors  that  we  see. 
The  cannonading  yesterday  which  seemed  so  near  was  at 
least  fifteen  miles  away ;  there  seems  no  doubt  but  that  we 
must  have  a  great  battle  between  here,  Le  Mans  and  Char- 
tres,  the  great  triangle.  Chanzy  cannot  stay  forever  at 
Le  Mans.  .  .  .  The  news  from  Paris  is  not  reassuring ; 
there  seems  a  want  of  good  administration,  as  they  say  the 
troops  in  the  forts  outside  Paris  have  very  little,  if  any- 
thing to  eat  and  that  the  cavalry  cannot  do  much  as  the 
horses  are  so  badly  fed  that  they  die  of  weakness.  The  com- 
missary department  is  evidently  broken  down. 

Saturday: — 0.  has  gone  today  to  Chateau  Renault  and 
tomorrow  he  will  visit  the  battle  fields  of  the  last  two  days. 
I  envy  him  the  chance,  not  because  it  is  by  any  means  an 
agreeable  excursion,  but  because  he  will  see  a  real  field  of 


194  LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

battle.  I  know  how  horrible  it  must  be  and  I  daresay  I 
should  not  get  over  the  effects  of  it  for  a  month,  but  one 
must  see  that  sort  of  thing  once  in  a  lifetime.  If  any 
battle  is  fought  nearer  to  us  I  shall  go.     .     .     . 

The  weather  has  changed  entirely  and  is  mild  and 
warm ;  it  rains  all  the  time.  It  is  hard  to  tell  which  is  best 
or  worst  for  the  soldiers;  the  very  cold  or  the  very  damp 
weather.  They  get  fever  so  badly  under  present  conditions. 
I  wish  I  could  give  you  some  news  of  Rome,  but  except  that 
I  saw  in  the  Times  the  other  day  that  Rome  was  half  under 
water  from  the  Tiber  as  well  as  all  the  surrounding  Cam- 
■pagna,  I  am  ignorant  of  the  state  of  affairs  there.  At 
Chambord  we  heard  from  Guerra  and  Lanciani.  I  fancy 
there  are  not  many  strangers  in  Rome  this  winter.  I  see 
that  King  Victor  Emanuel  has  been  to  Rome  and  took 
up  his  quarters  at  the  Quirinal  Palace. 

Sunday: — It  has  been  a  dismal  day;  K.  went  out  to 
walk  on  the  "Mail"  and  I  with  her.  Later  I  wandered 
about  till  I  reached  the  Cathedral.  I  went  in  and  found 
Vespers  were  going  on,  and  heard  some  sweet  music.  The 
Cathedral  was  quite  dark,  only  the  choir  and  altar  were 
lighted,  and  they  were  singing  the  Anthem  for  the  Epipha- 
ny to  a  tune  we  sing  at  home.  It  was  sweet  to  hear  some- 
thing familiar,  sung  to  a  magnificent  organ.  After  the  ser- 
vice the  organist  went  on  playing  for  some  time;  I  did  en- 
joy it.  It  reminded  me  of  the  Trinita  dei  Monti  where  you 
and  Mother  and  Father  and  I  used  to  go  so  often  to  hear 
the  nuns  sing. 

Monday: — 0.  came  back  at  noon  today;  he  assisted  at 
the  battle  yesterday,  but  he  couldn't  see  anything  but  a 
little  smoke.  It  was,  however,  quite  an  affair  in  which  the 
French  were  beaten  back.  The  Government  never  reports 
any  defeat  and  all  retreats  are  called  "strategical  move- 
ments. ' ' 

Tours,  January  14,  1871. 

Although  I  have  written  to  various  people  at  home  in 
the  last  few  days  I  must  write  a  note  to  you  as  our  postal 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  195 

1871 

Age  29 

communications  may  be  interrupted  for  a  few  days.     I 
have  been  much  relieved  to  hear  through  the  Superintend- 
ent of  the  Railways  that  even  when  the  Prussians  are  here 
we  shall  still  be  able  to  get  and  send  our  letters.    The  post 
office  will  send  a  courier  to  the  nearest  railway  that  the 
trains  will  reach  each  day.     I  am  not  very  sure  that  even 
this  official  is  certain  of  the  fact,  but  this  is  what  he  tells 
me  and  I  can  only  hope  it  will  be  so.    You  will  hear  long 
before  this  reaches  you  that  General  Chanzy  has  been  beat- 
en at  Le  Mans  and  is  in  full  retreat.    I  presume  we  shall 
see  the  Germans  here  by  tomorrow.    I  do  not  believe  that 
they  will  stay  long  or  that  they  will  be  numerous.     It  is  • 
sickening  to  see  the  misery  of  the  poor  Mobiles  who  go  past 
in  retreat,  half  dead  with  hunger,  fatigue  and  cold,  they 
must  still  march,  march,  march,  and  dear  knows  where  they 
will  stop.    A  Captain  told  me  last  night  that  for  fourteen 
nights  he  had  not  slept  in  a  bed  or  even  on  straw.     An- 
other told  me  he  had  been  on  the  march  for  four  days  and 
nights  with  only  one  hour's  rest  in  twenty-four;  he  had 
dysentery  and  had  had  nothing  but  dry  bread  for  four  days 
and  his  orderly,  poor  fellow,  had  given  out  by  the  way. 
He  had  tried  to  encourage  him  to  go  on,  to  struggle  along, 
but  he  had  to  leave  him  lying  by  the  roadside  and  supposes 
he  is  a  prisoner.    The  poor  creatures  say  they  would  rather 
lie  down  and  be  made  prisoners  than  drag  on  this  miserable 
existence  of  starvation,  cold  and  fatigue.    The  Government 
seems  not  to  take  the  slightest  care  of  them ;  they  have  not 
even  flannel   shirts  and  their  clothes  are  in  rags.     The 
weather  is  cold  again  but  clear  with  some  snow  on  the 
ground.    We  are  all  fairly  well.    When  I  next  write  you  I 
suppose  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  about  the  Prussian  occu- 
pation.   We  have  escaped  it  twice,  the  third  time  we  will 
not  get  off,  I  think.    Yesterday  some  Uhlans  came  within 
two  miles  of  the  city,  but  they  met  a  lot  of  French  cavalry 
retreating  from  Le  Mans  or  Beaumont  and  as  the  French 
were  in  larger  numbers  the  Germans  retreated;  but  there 
is  a  force  of  them  at  Monnaie,  eight  miles  from  here.    The 


196  LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

French  troops  are  all  leaving;  however,  we  have  still  some 
few  people  in  the  hotel.  Soon  we  shall  have  German  offi- 
cers among  us. 

Tonrs,  January  19,  1871. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

This  morning,  when  we  least  expected  them,  the  Prus- 
sians arrived.  Last  night  we  had  not  an  idea  of  their  near 
approach ;  we  heard  on  the  contrary  there  were  only  three 
h-undred  anywhere  near  us,  and  that  10,000  French  were 
coming  to  hold  Tours ;  this  morning,  at  eight,  we  heard  they 
were  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  making  arrangements 
with  the  Mayor  and  at  twelve  they  entered.  The  General 
commanding  and  a  General  of  Division,  with  their  respec- 
tive staffs,  are  at  this  Hotel.  I  know  no  names  as  yet.  I 
have  seen  the  staff  officers,  who  are  fine  looking  men.  The 
troops,  mostly  cavalry,  at  least  those  I  have  seen,  have 
passed  our  window ;  the  band  was  playing  some  fine  music. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  the  good  people  of  Tours  do  not  look  in 
the  least  annoyed  at  the  occupation  of  their  town.  At  this 
moment  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  women  and 
children  are  standing  in  front  of  the  hotel  staring  at  the 
sentinels  and  orderlies  who  are  holding  the  horses;  the 
shops  are  open,  the  trades-people  evidently  look  for  custom. 
I  must  tell  you  now,  why  we  have  not  gone  away  as  we 
expected.  Poor  little  K,  was  not  quite  well  the  evening  I 
last  wrote  you  and  since  then  has  been  through  what  seems 
to  me  the  worst  of  the  necessary  diseases,  scarlet  fever. 
You  can  imagine  how  anxious  I  have  been.  This  morning 
the  Doctor  said  the  disease  had  begun  to  decline ;  all  dan- 
ger was  past,  but  she  needed  the  greatest  care  during  con- 
valescence. The  Doctor  says  she  must  not  go  out  for  three 
weeks.  I  do  not  know  when  I  can  send  this  letter  to  you. 
I  must  wait  for  some  one  who  is  going  out  of  Tours  to 
take  it  for  me.  I  hope  to  hear  of  some  one  soon.  We  could, 
of  course,  leave  here  except  for  the  child  and  must  stay 
now  whether  we  will  or  not.     As  the  Prussians  hold  Le 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  197 

1871 
Age  29 

Mans,  AlenQon  and  all  the  road  to  Rouen  we  may  be  able 
to  send  letters  to  England  by  that  route.  At  present 
Chanzy  is  driven  back  and  beaten,  Bourbaki,  in  the  east, 
is  helpless  and  Faidherbe,  in  the  north,  cannot  advance.  It 
seems  as  if  this  state  of  things  could  not  go  on  much  longer ; 
it  seems  impossible  that  Paris  can  hold  out  another  month. 
They  used  to  say  they  had  bread  for  two  years  and  wine 
for  one ;  now  it  seems  from  their  own  account  that  common 
wine  is  scarce  and  that  they  have  to  grind  rice  to  mix  with 
their  flour  to  eke  out  the  scant  supply.  The  Prussians  I 
have  seen  are  well  fed,  fresh,  hearty,  good  natured  crea- 
tures, a  great  contrast  to  the  poor,  forlorn  Mobiles  we  are 
accustomed  to  see ;  their  uniforms  are  not  at  all  pretty, 
they  are  usually  black,  or  black  and  white,  a  few  are  all 
white.  The  Generals  seem  as  plainly  dressed  as  the  men. 
The  troops  so  far  have  paid  for  all  they  buy  and  have  con- 
ducted themselves  very  well.  The  terms  on  which  they 
occupy  the  town,  the  terms  which  the  Mayor  obtained  for 
them,  seem  easy.  The  troops  are  kept  in  the  barracks,  not 
billeted  in  private  houses  as  they  have  been  in  Blois  and 
Orleans;  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  can  go  out  and  in  as 
they  please.  The  Germans  promised  to  make  no  requisi- 
tions so  long  as  the  people  behaved  quietly ;  the  municipal- 
ity will  give  them  10,000  rations  a  day,  that  is  all.  Our 
banker,  M.  Gouin,  is  the  Mayor  and  he  really  has  obtained 
excellent  conditions  for  the  city.  I  know  of  no  other  ex- 
cept Rouen  that  has  been  so  lucky. 


JOURNAL 


January  19,  1871. 
At  last  they  have  come!  Last  night  we  had  French 
officers  to  dinner  and  today  we  have  Prussian  officers  to 
breakfast.  Our  French  acquaintances  left  at  five  this 
morning  and  when  I  wakened,  0.  told  me  the  Germans  were 
at  La  Tranehee ;  at  noon  they  entered.  .  .  .  The  squad- 
rons of  Lancers  and  Uhlans  galloping  here  and  there,  the 


198  LETTERS  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

Generals  on  superb  horses,  the  infantry  with  their  pointed 
casques  and  the  music  make  a  lively  atmosphere. 

January  20. 
I  had  the  good  fortune  today  to  be  able  to  send  a  letter 
home.  Two  Englishmen  of  the  Anglo- American  ambulance 
were  going  to  the ' '  Avant  postes ' '  and  then  beyond,  and  one 
of  them  offered  to  take  my  letter.  I  shall  try  to  see  the  Gen- 
eral in  command  about  sending  my  letters  through  Prussia. 
I  learned  today  to  distinguish  the  Uhlans  from  the  other 
troops;  they  carry  no  lances  and  they  have  a  white  band 
across  the  breast.  The  Lancers  have  no  band;  the  officers 
with  a  red  band  on  the  cap  are  Prussians,  the  others  I 
have  yet  to  determine. 

January  21. 
I  went  with  O.  today  to  La  Tranehee;  it  was  a  busy 
place.  Wagons  filled  with  grain  or  forage  or  provisions 
came  in  great  numbers.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  were  several 
mitrailleuses  pointed  with  the  utmost  precision  to  sweep  the 
bridge  and  the  Rue  Royale.  I  think  on  the  whole  Tours 
has  had  ''de  la  chance"  to  have  no  heavy  conditions  im- 
posed on  her  by  what  looks  to  be  a  polite  enemy.  The  only 
thing  we  suffer  from  is  lack  of  news.  Since  the  occupation 
of  the  town  we  have  not  had  one  word.  I  wish  the  Prus- 
sians would  "publish  a  newspaper! 

January  22,  Sunday. 
They  say  the  Uhlans  have  gone  as  far  as  Chinon ;  per- 
haps they  will  visit  Rassay.    In  July  when  we  were  there 
we  little  thought  in  January  the  Germans  would  have  taken 
our  places. 

January  25. 
I  sent  a  letter  home  today.  I  took  it  to  the  Prefecture 
where  the  office  of  the  Prussian  Commander  is.  An  officer 
took  it,  went  through  the  form  of  looking  it  over,  then  said 
he  would  read  it  and  send  it.  He  said  I  could  also  have 
my  letters  sent  me  through  Prussia;  they  will  be  opened 
here  before  being  given  to  me.  This  gives  me  great  com- 
fort; that  I  can  still  be  in  communication  with  home.  I 
saw  the  son  of  Prince  Frederick  Charles  today;  he  wore 
a  light  blue  uniform.  I  also  saw  the  young  Count  Eulen- 
berg.    We  hear  that  the  French  reached  Versailles  in  the 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  199 

1871 
Age  29 

sortie  of  the  19th  and  General  Trochu  has  remained  there 
leaving  General  Le  Flo  in  command  of  Paris ;  what  would 
we  not  give  for  a  newspaper ! 

January  27. 
There  are  all  sorts  of  rumours  in  the  air  today;  they 
say  that  Versailles  is  definitely  taken  and  that  Prince 
Albert  is  wounded;  again  that  he  is  dead  and  again  that 
he  is  a  prisoner.  Also  that  General  Ducrot,  having  caused 
the  Germans  to  evacuate  Versailles  has  advanced  on  Melun. 
Also  that  many  Prussian  guns  have  been  taken  and  that 
they  have  put  30,000  to  40,000  Prussians  "hors  combat." 
The  Prussians  say  Paris  is  burning  and  that  Trochu  is  a 
prisoner.    What  is  one  to  believe  ? 

January  31,  1871. 
This,  my  twenty-ninth  birthday,  has  been  a  happy  day 
for  me;  my  little  darling  was  dressed  today  and  she  has 
walked  several  times  round  the  room  holding  my  hand. 
.  .  .  There  was  a  military  service  in  the  Avenue  de 
Grammont  today;  the  troops  were  drawn  up  in  a  hollow 
square.  In  the  centre  was  a  dais  on  which  stood  the  clergy- 
man before  a  crimson  covered  table  and  the  standard  bear- 
ers supporting  the  royal  standard  on  each  side  of  him.  The 
General  and  his  staff  were  opposite;  it  was  an  impressive 
sight.  I  do  not  quite  know  what  the  service,  was  for,  but 
I  fear  it  was  in  celebration  of  thanksgiving  for  the  surren- 
der of  Paris.  Today  the  "Union  Liberale"  has  reappeared 
and  no  one  but  those  who,  like  us,  have  been  utterly  de- 
prived of  all  news  for  two  weeks,  can  realize  how  eagerly 
we  read  that  half  sheet.  The  news  of  the  surrender  of 
Paris  and  of  the  armistice  agreed  upon,  though  coming 
from  Prussian  sources,  seems  not  to  be  doubted. 

February  4,  1871. 
These  last  four  days  have  been  full  of  interest ;  the  news 
from  Paris  has  been  confirmed.  The  National  Assembly  is 
to  be  elected  immediately.  Paris  was  at  the  end  of  its  pro- 
visions. M.  Gambetta  has  sent  out  a  "decret"  concerning 
the  elections  which  is  variously  described  by  the  different 
newspapers  as  "Epileptique, "  "  Monstrueux, "  "Inique," 
etc.  He  has  published  a  decree  by  which  in  fact  no  one 
could  be  a  candidate  for  election  who  was  not  a  Republi- 
can !    Here  some  changes  have  taken  place ;  the  troops  are 


200  LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

now  billeted  upon  the  inhabitants  and  long  are  the  faces 
of  those  who  are  thus  inconvenienced,  and  who  I  must  con- 
fess gave  neither  shelter  nor  food  to  their  poor,  half 
starved  shivering  Mobiles  when  they  were  here.  Two  gen- 
tlemen arrived  from  Paris,  tell  us  that  the  bread  at  the  end 
was  something  abominable ;  a  mixture  of  bran,  oats,  rye  and 
rice.  They  say  Prince  Frederick  Charles  will  be  here  on 
the  8tli.  I  saw  some  white  cuirassiers  today;  they  looked 
splendid,  one  was  on  a  white  horse  and  flew  past  us  at  a 
gallop.  His  white  dress  and  steel  cuirasse  and  helmet 
shimmering  in  the  sun.    He  looked  like  Attila. 


LETTERS 

Tours,  February  9,  1871. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  hear  tonight  that  the  armistice  has  been  lengthened ; 
we  are  deeply  interested  in  the  coming  proceedings  of  the 
National  Assembly.  I  believe  myself  that  the  Orleans 
House  will  be  recalled  and  a  constitutional  sovereignty  es- 
tablished under  the  Comte  de  Paris,  but  it  would  not  aston- 
ish me  either  to  hear  of  a  restoration  of  the  Bonapartes.  I 
think  the  Nation  needs  a  strong  hand  to  rule  it  and  will 
for  some  time.  .  .  .  How  much  I  shall  have  to  tell  you 
when  I  come  home  of  all  I  have  seen  and  experienced  since 
the  war.  I  shall  never  regret  having  remained  in  the  midst 
of  it ;  it  is  an  experience  that  will  be  interesting  to  remem- 
ber all  my  life.  My  stay  has  given  me  opportunities  of 
judging  and  testing  national  character  and  of  learning 
more  of  military  and  political  matters  than  I  could  have 
done  in  a  lifetime  of  reading.  A  good  many  of  my  old 
opinions  have  been  strengthened  and  confirmed  by  all  I 
have  seen.  Now  I  should  like  a  long  rest  to  digest  all  this, 
but  the  rest  is  not  in  store  yet ;  I  must  see  all  these  battle 
fields  and  ravaged  countries  and  desolated  villages  before 
I  have  done.  At  least  about  Paris  I  mean  to  see  things 
thoroughly. 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  201 

1871 
Age  29 

Tours,  February  15,  1871. 
My  Dear  Father: 

There  was  great  animation  in  the  streets  today ;  the 
news  of  Peace  brightened  every  one's  face.  The  German 
troops  are  preparing  to  leave  and  look  as  though  they 
longed  to  get  back  to  the  Fatherland.  We  got  as  far  as 
the  station  this  morning  on  the  way  to  Blois  and  Chambord 
but  we  got  no  farther.  We  found  the  train  advertised  for 
one  0  'clock  could  not  well  accommodate  us  and  our  baggage 
so  we  concluded  to  wait  till  tomorrow  and  take  a  French 
regular  train  at  eleven  in  the  morning.  The  weather  is 
so  charming  that  life  is  a  pleasure  anywhere ;  it  is  as  warm 
now  as  May.  We  had  letters  from  Paris  this  week  from 
the  concierge  saying  the  studio  was  in  perfect  order  and 
giving  us  news  of  artist  friends.  Another  letter  was  from 
our  old  cook  telling  us  all  the  trials  and  tribulations  since 
the  siege,  which,  however,  she  bravely  makes  light  of  now 
they  are  past.  She  has  the  idea  of  politics  shared  by  a  ma- 
jority of  the  lower  classes;  that  idea  being  that  the  army 
and  the  forts  were  all  sold  to  Bismarck  by  Jules  Favres 
and  Trochu  and  that  although  they  had  to  eat  cat  and  dog 
and  bread  made  of  sand  and  flax-seed,  it  was  not  because 
there  were  no  provisions  but  because  the  Government  had 
hidden  them,  and  that  there  were  three  months  provisions 
concealed  when  Paris  capitulated ! 


JOURNAL 


February  16. 
Tours  is  getting  gayer.  Prince  Frederick  Charles  has 
arrived  and  is  at  the  hotel  du  Marechal  Baraguay  d'Hil- 
liers.  General  Voigts  Rhetz  is  also  here  and  I  think  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Mechlenbourg ;  I  have  seen  the  last  two. 
We  now  have  music  every  afternoon  on  the  "Mail"  and 
sometimes  in  the  morning.  Yesterday  there  were  races; 
tomorrow  they  say  the  Crown  Prince  will  arrive.  M. 
Gouin,  our  banker  and  the  Mayor  of  Tours,  has  been  elected 


202  LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

as  a  delegate  to  the  National  Assembly.  The  Prefect  Buret 
has  been  superseded  by  a  German  Prefect,  Count  Koenigs- 
mark.    The  armistice  has  been  on  for  five  days. 

February,  23. 
The  Crown  Prince  arrived  Saturday;  I  saw  him.  He 
has  a  fine,  intelligent,  amiable  face  and  athletic  figure.  He 
has  left  again.  General  von  Moltke  has  been  here  but  I 
did  not  see  him  closely.  The  Duke  of  Mecklenbourg  is  also 
here.  Yesterday  O.  spoke  to  one  of  the  newly  arrived 
young  officers,  a  dark,  handsome  fellow,  thinking  he  was 
Italian,  both  by  appearance  and  by  the  uniform  he  wore. 
He  proved  to  be  Bavarian  but  said  he  had  an  Italian 
mother.  We  met  a  young  Mr.  P.  son  of  the  Mayor  of 
Chateau  Renault,  and  I  found  he  had  been  all  over  the 
United  States  and  had  even  been  through  Meadville!  He 
seems  to  be  a  wonderful  young  man  who  has  taken  all  the 
honours  of  the  University  here  and  has  already  won  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour  and  he  is  not  more  than 
twenty-five.  The  great  question  of  Peace  or  War  is  not  yet 
decided.  We  wait  so  anxiously  to  know  the  result  of  the 
negotiations  at  Versailles.  I  am  sorry  to  say  the  National 
Assembly  has  been  the  scene  of  some  disgraceful  encoun- 
ters; thanks  to  Messrs.  Rochefort,  Gambetta,  Louis  Blanc, 
etc.  Such  men  seem  to  destroy  all  the  dignity  of  a  confer- 
ence. 

February  23. 
Dean  Stanley  has  preached  a  sermon  at  Westminster 
Abbey  in  London  in  aid  of  the  fund  now  being  raised  for 
the  relief  of  the  destitute  people  of  Paris.  The  Dean  took 
his  text  from  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  the  subjoined, 
though  not  consecutive,  verses;  they  struck  me  as  wonder- 
fully applicable. 

"How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary  that  was  full 
of  people !  How  has  she  become  as  a  widow !  She 
that  was  great  among  the  nations  and  princess 
among  the  provinces.  How  is  she  become  tribu- 
tary! Arise!  cry  out  in  the  night!  In  the  be- 
ginning of  the  watches  pour  out  thine  heart  like 
water  before  the  face  of  the  Lord.  Lift  up  thy 
hands  towards  Him  for  the  lives  of  thy  young 
children  that  faint  for  hunger  in  the  corner  of 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  203 

V  1871 

Age  29 

every  street.  Remember,  Oh  Lord,  what  has  come 
upon  us;  consider  and  behold  our  reproach;  our 
inheritance  is  turned  to  strangers;  our  houses  to 
aliens.  We  are  orphans  and  fatherless;  our 
mothers  are  as  widows.  Our  necks  are  under 
persecution ;  we  labour  and  have  no  rest. ' ' 


LETTERS 

Tours,  March  2. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  received  on  Monday  your  letter  of  February  7th,  I 
am  glad  to  find  that  we  have  done  pretty  much  what  you 
advised  our  doing  in  your  letter.  I  am  sure  we  have  done 
wisely  in  not  hurrying  to  Paris,  though  the  temptation  was 
great.  Even  now  we  have  decided  to  spend  two  weeks  at 
Chambord  before  going  back  there.  Until  the  Prussians 
have  left  Paris  and  some  sort  of  order  is  restored  I  do  not 
think  the  city  is  safe.  At  last  Peace  is  definitely  decided 
on.  I  can  hardly  believe  it ;  the  state  of  France  at  this  mo- 
ment is  pitiable.  I  feel  the  greatest  sympathy  for  such  men 
as  Thiers,  Favres,  etc. ;  they  have  a  fearful  task  to 
perform  and  I  fear  will  get  little  thanks  for  it.  You  will 
no  doubt  have  read  the  accounts  of  the  sitting  of  the  Na- 
tional Assembly;  in  spite  of  some  disgraceful  scenes  it 
seems  to  be  on  the  whole  a  respectable  body,  and  the  ma- 
jority of  men  composing  it  are  thoughtful,  honest  and 
sensible.  I  have  confidence  in  M.  Thiers,  though  I  think 
he  is  at  heart  an  "Orleaniste"  and  always  will  be.  I  am 
sure  he  heartily  desires  a  restoration  and  perhaps  he  may 
attempt  it  after  a  time. 


JOURNAL 


Friday,  March  3. 
This  morning  we  left  Tours.     Two  days  ago  two  thou- 
sand troops  arrived  from  Le  Mans;  they  passed  before  the 
Generals  and  Prince  Frederick  Charles  on  the  Place  du 


204  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

Palais  de  Justice.  They  were  all  black  Brunswickers  with 
some  cavalry  and  no  end  of  artillery.  They  defiled  for  sev- 
eral hours.  Blois,  when  we  reached  it,  looked  forlorn  and 
dull  after  Tours ;  many  of  the  shops  were  shut,  few  people 
were  in  the  street  and  all  looked  gloomy.  There  were 
plenty  of  Prussians;  we  met  them  all  along  the  road.  We 
reached  Chambord  at  seven  o'clock;  they  were  not  expect- 
ing us  there  and  cries  and  exclamations  broke  out  when 
they  saw  the  omnibus.  M.  Pernelle  was  so  glad  to  see  us 
that  he  hugged  0.,  kissed  Amelia  and  kissed  my  hand  re- 
peatedly. Every  one  looked  rejoiced,  and  Black,  the  dear 
old  dog,  was  wild  with  joy;  he  jumped  and  barked  and 
licked  my  hands  and  face  and  put  his  paw's  on  O.'s 
shoulders  and  caracoled  around  K.  for  an  hour.  Madame 
1  'Hopital  is  still  here  and  the  Pernelles ;  it  was  like  a  home 
coming;  it  is  pleasant  to  feel  you  are  so  welcome.  My  old 
room,  neat  and  cheery  with  its  blazing  wood  fire,  was  all 
ready.  K.  walked  from  one  room  to  another,  saying  she 
was  glad  to  get  to  "her  house."  We  had  a  cosy  dinner, 
then  0.  had  his  pipe  before  the  fire  and  we  all  gathered 
round  the  hearth  in  the  great  kitchen  and  listened  to  all 
the  wonderful  stories  they  had  to  tell  of  what  had  hap- 
pened during  our  absence.  Above  all,  of  that  ninth  of 
December,  when  the  enemy  arrived. 

March  7. 
I  went  on  Sunday  to  see  the  good  Sisters  and  had  such 
a  welcome  as  warms  my  heart.  Sister  St.  Bernard  hugged 
and  kissed  me.  Sister  St.  Denis  would  not  let  go  my  hand 
for  ten  minutes,  and  Sister  Marie,  with  her  lovely,  gentle 
face,  smiled  a  welcome.  I  do  love  these  good  Sisters ;  they 
are  such  as  one  could  come  to  in  trouble,  for  they  would  be 
a  comfort  and  refuge.  I  should  like  K.  when  she  is  older 
to  spend  a  month  or  two  with  them  every  year.  M.  Arnoult 
was  also  glad  to  see  us ;  he  tells  us  there  are  heaps  of  chasse- 
pots  in  the  Castle  which  have  been  broken  and  so  rendered 
useless  by  the  Prussians ;  also  an  enormous  heap  of  swords 
which,  however,  has  dwindled  he  tells  us  because  the  peas- 
ants from  all  the  villages  about  have  helped  themselves.  We 
have  secured  six,  two  for  0.,  two  for  A.,  and  two  for  any 
one  else  who  may  want  them.  We  are  offered  more  chasse- 
pots  than  we  want;  I  am  promised  one  or  two  Prussian 
casques,  the  black  ones.  We  have  begun  again  our  old 
quiet  life,  so  tranquil  and  cheerful,  I  enjoy  it.     K.  is  as 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  205 

1871 
Age  29 

happy  as  can  be,  digging  in  the  sand  making  garden,  roll- 
ing her  hoop,  or  playing  with  Black  and  the  cat.  O.  has 
begun  painting.  We  hear  that  the  Crown  Prince  of  Saxony 
or  Baden,  I  don't  know  which,  breakfasted  here  one  day; 
no  one  knew  who  he  was,  Madame  Bazin  had  very  little 
to  offer  him  and  told  him  so.  He  inspected  the  casserole  on 
the  fire  where  her  dinner  was  cooking;  he  liked  the  odour 
of  some  stewed  veal  and  said  he  would  like  the  half  of 
that.  He  ate  it  with  some  bread  and  potatoes  with  appar- 
ently a  hearty  relish,  and  at  a  table  without  a  tablecloth. 
He  paid  generously  for  it.  The  next  day  other  officers  ar- 
rived and  Madame  Bazin  said  again  she  had  nothing  to 
offer  them;  one  of  them  replied  "Give  us  the  same  'noth- 
ing' that  you  gave  the  gentleman  yesterday.  He  found  it 
so  good  that  he  spoke  of  it  at  Blois  and  recommended  us  to 
come  here."  Then  they  went  on  to  say  that  the  Prince 
had  told  them  "If  the  hostess  tells  you  she  has  nothing, 
don 't  believe  her ;  inspect  the  casseroles.  You  '11  be  sure  to 
find  something  delectable."  Here,  and  especially  at  Blois, 
every  one  seems  impressed  with  the  amiability  of  the  CroAvn 
Prince  of  Prussia.  He  came  here  one  morning  at  six 
o'clock  with  an  escort  of  Lancers,  etc.,  and  went  over  the 
Chateau;  he  only  remained  an  hour  or  two  and  went  on 
to  Blois  and  Tours.  Almost  all  the  officers  Avho  were  at 
Tours  have  visited  the  Chateau  since  we  returned ;  General 
Voigts  Rhetz,  General  Hartmann  and  their  staffs,  including 
Count  Eulenberg.  They  all  expressed  great  admiration  of 
the  Chateau  and  no  wonder;  it  did  look  so  beautiful  that 
day.  The  orderlies  recognizing  us,  having  seen  us  daily  at 
Tours,  saluted  us  respectfully^  and  one  came  up  to  speak 
to  K,  The  weather  is  so  charming  we  spend  half  the  day 
in  the  court  yard  or  garden. 


LETTERS 

Chambord,  March  9. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  can 't  let  a  letter  go  without  a  line  in  it  to  you,  though 
I  have  no  news  to  tell  you.  We  are  back  again  at  Cham- 
bord and  I  am  as  happy  as  can  be;  the  weather  is  lovely, 
the  air  sweet,  every  one  is  glad  to  see  us.    We  have  such 


206  LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

delicious  fresh  butter,  and  eggs  and  milk  that  K.  is  gaining 
flesh.  0.  is  busy  and  consequently  happy  and  I  am  quite 
contented  to  stay  a  few  weeks.  .  .  .  We  shall  go  back 
to  Paris  when  everything  seems  quiet  and  very  soon  now 
I  shall  be  going  home !  As  soon  as  I  can  get  to  Paris  I  will 
see  about  steamers  and  do  all  my  shopping.  Let  me  know 
what  things  you  want  me  to  get  there  for  you.  I  was  glad 
to  hear  of  Aunt  V.  and  immensely  amused  at  the  account 
of  Tom  Paine!  Have  the  people  of  Keokuk  gone  stark 
staring  mad  that  they  are  making  a  saint  and  martyr  of 
that  old  atheist,  Tom  Paine  ?  I  do  believe  some  astounding 
radicals  on  the  authority  of  Milton  or  of  one  verse  in  the 
Bible  will  set  up  the  Devil  as  a  much  abused  person  (or 
angel)  and  the  first  of  all  radicals  and  begin  to  worship 
him  as  the  being  who  first  got  up  a  revolution  against  estab- 
lished order  and  headed  the  rebellion !  The  ' '  Gentleman  of 
the  Liberals ' '  must  have  a  bee  in  his  bonnet,  I  think.  The 
number  of  gentlemen  who  wear  that  insect  in  their  hats 
in  the  present  National  Assembly  of  France  is  alarming.  It 
is  true  some  of  them  have  been  weeded  out  or  rather  have 
removed  themselves,  but  there  remain  some  queer  speci- 
mens. One  of  these  the  other  day  on  his  own  responsibility 
dissolved  the  Assembly ;  he  told  the  respected  body  that  it 
no  longer  existed,  and  that  consequently  there  was  no  need 
of  his  giving  in  his  resignation.  He  then  departed  for 
Paris,  where  he  is  busily  engaged  in  abusing  every  one  and 
in  arousing  the  people  to  revolt.  I  must  add  that  he  still 
draws  his  salary  as  a  delegate,  but  of  course  this  must  be 
through  sheer  f orgetf ulness !  The  consistency  of  his  con- 
duct is  difficult  to  see;  this  is  Felix  Pyat.  I  do  hope  that 
when  once  the  Assembly  is  settled  at  Versailles  things  may 
run  peaceably  and  it  may  be  safe  to  enter  Paris  again. 

Chambord,  March  21. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  wish  I  could  send  you  a  message  by  pigeon  or  tele- 
graph to  wish  you  many  happy  returns  of  your  birthday, 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  207 

1871 
Age  29 

and  also  to  relieve  your  mind  of  any  anxiety  you  may  be 
feeling  lest  we  be  in  Paris  under  the  present  disquieting 
circumstances.  We  all  send  you  our  warmest  love  and  con- 
gratulations. K.  has  been  out  in  the  sunny  meadows  along 
the  river  side  to  gather  violets  with  which  we  shall  deck 
our  dinner  table.  I  wish  I  could  drop  into  your  hands  a 
bunch  of  these  purple  posies  with  their  delicious  perfume 
and  send  you  your  grand-daughter  who  looks  as  fresh  as 
a  May  rose  to  give  you  a  birthday  kiss.  We  are  still  safe 
at  Chambord  and  very  glad  not  to  be  in  Paris  under  the 
disturbed  state  of  affairs  there.  For  several  days  before 
the  troubles  actually  broke  out  the  papers  had  reported 
that  the  cannon  held  by  the  Gardes  Nationales  had  been 
given  up  and  that  all  was  quiet  and  no  danger  appre- 
hended. Upon  that  we  had  decided  to  return  to  Paris,  but 
found,  as  has  usually  been  the  case,  that  the  papers  did  not 
tell  the  truth  and  just  when  the  danger  was  greatest  they 
reported  all  danger  past.  We  heard  last  evening  of  the 
revolution  in  Paris  and  today's  papers  give  an  account  of 
the  fearful  state  of  things  and  the  details  of  horrors  al- 
ready committed.  It  is  indeed  distressing  that  the  people 
could  not  wait  till  the  enemy  was  fairly  beyond  the  fron- 
tier before  they  flew  at  each  other's  throats  and  caused 
chaos  and  anarchy.  The  Government  shows  itself  too  vacil- 
lating and  weak  to  handle  the  "canaille"  who  pretend  to 
impose  their  vile  theories  upon  the  nation.  It  is  difficult 
to  sympathize  with  the  people  at  this  juncture ;  if  the  popu- 
lation of  Paris  gained  a  little  glory  by  its  courage  in  endur- 
ing the  siege  it  has  diminished  it  now  by  its  conduct.  You 
cannot  imagine  the  indignation  which  is  felt  in  the  prov- 
inces; people  yesterday  were  fairly  trembling  with  fury. 
The  provincial  papers  are  uttering  one  universal  howl  of 
rage.  A.  received  a  letter  today  from  Paris  which  gives 
much  the  same  report  as  do  the  papers.  You  will  have 
seen  the  cold  blooded  way  in  which  General  Clement 
Thomas  and  General  Lecompte  were  shot  by  the  people; 
it  was  a  horrible  affair;  one  cannot  imagine  what  will  be 


208  LETTEES  AND  JOUKNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

the  result  of  all  this.  The  Government  cannot  rely  on  the 
army  for  the  soldiers  of  the  line  refuse  to  fight  and  put 
themselves  on  the  side  of  the  insurgents.  I  daresay  the 
Government  will  have  to  decamp  and  then  the  heads  of  the 
revolution  will  proclaim  the  Commune,  socialism,  and 
Heaven  only  knows  what.  No  one  seems  to  feel  any  confi- 
dence in  the  future.  Of  course  this  affair  of  Paris  will  de- 
lay my  home  coming;  I  must  have  a  month  or  six  weeks 
there  and  the  longer  I  have  to  stay  here  the  later  I  shall  be 
in  sailing.  I  am  very  sorry  but  I  must  do  nothing  impru- 
dent and  it  is  wise  to  wait  till  the  danger  in  Paris  is  past. 
The  weather  here  continues  charming ;  we  hope  to  make  an 
excursion  to  Beaugency  some  time  this  week.  Today  there 
has  taken  place  the  annual  sale  of  wood ;  it  is  the  chief  reve- 
nue of  Chambord,  and  brings  in  something  like  150,000 
francs  a  year.  The  sale  took  place  in  one  of  the  great  halls 
of  the  Chateau,  all  the  tenants,  forest  guards  and  wood 
cutters  attended,  most  of  them  in  their  picturesque  uni- 
forms of  ''Gardes"  of  Chambords.  The  sale  went  well  and 
the  scene  was  interesting ;  the  Great  Hall  with  stag 's  heads 
and  horns  and  old  armour  hung  all  about  the  huge  chimney 
piece  with  its  carved  heraldic  escutcheons,  the  old  oaken 
chairs,  the  forest  and  game  keepers  in  uniform,  the  tenants 
in  blue  blouses,  the  wood  cutters  with  their  bronzed  faces, 
the  respectable  merchants,  the  builders  and  architects,  the 
old  Regisseur,  and  lastly  the  Notary.  This  man  looked  so 
amazingly,  so  strikingly  like  the  Comte  de  Chambord  him- 
self, that  I  was  comepletely  taken  aback,  "saisie"  as  the 
French  say,  and  thought  by  some  chance  the  real  Master 
had  arrived  and  was  holding  a  levee!  The  Notary  pro- 
ceeded to  conduct  the  sale  and  did  it  in  so  quiet  and  digni- 
fied a  manner  that  K.  seemingly  thought  it  was  a  sermon 
and  proceeded  to  go  to  sleep !  .  .  .  The  peach  and 
almond  trees  are  in  full  bloom  now.  I  went  to  Blois  the 
other  day  and  visited  the  great  "Hotel  Dieu, "  or  general 
hospital.  There  were  still  a  good  many  sick  and  wounded, 
but  they  looked  so  clean  and  comfortable  and  so  v/ell  tended 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  209 

1871 
Age  29 

by  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  that  it  was  more  pleasant  than  oth- 
erwise. I  wonder  if  it  is  the  grey  dress  and  white  coiffe, 
which  makes  a  beauty  of  every  woman  who  dons  the  habit ! 
or  do  only  pretty  women  become  Sisters?  I  never  yet  saw 
an  ugly  Sister,  and  a  greater  number  of  lovely  faces  can 
nowhere  be  found  than  in  the  ranks  of  the  "  Religieuses. " 
These  grey  Sisters  have  a  great  fascination  for  me.  There 
is  little  of  religious  cant  about  them  and  so  much  that  is 
practical,  self-sacrificing  and  noble.  I  suppose  one  can  do 
just  as  well  without  being  in  an  Order,  but  there  certainly 
is  great  charm  in  their  quiet,  useful  life  together,  in  the  ex- 
quisite neatness  of  their  houses,  and  in  the  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  their  intercourse.  I  am  just  now  reading  a 
history  of  the  Revolution  of  1848,  and  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
Philippe  which  I  find  most  interesting.  Taken  in  connec- 
tion with  history  now  in  the  making  and  in  comparison 
with  it,  and  current  events  each  day  developing  makes  it 
profitable  reading,  indeed.  I  thought  I  should  have  a  great 
deal  of  leisure  here  but  reading  newspapers  and  books, 
writing,  walking  and  sewing  fill  the  days  and  I  find  them 
far  too  short  for  all  I  want  to  accomplish. 

Chambord,  March  30. 
My  Dear  N. : 

It  is  nearly  two  weeks  since  mj'^  last  letter  arrived  from 
home  and  I  am  beginning  to  be  anxious  for  another.  The 
way  things  drag  on  at  Paris  is  a  misery ;  every  day  that  I 
am  obliged  to  stay  here  makes  one  more  day  necessary  for 
me  to  stay  in  Paris,  and  one  day  farther  from  home.  I 
thought  surely  to  have  sailed  the  first  of  May  but  it  will 
be  much  later;  instead  of  affairs  looking  more  hopeful  at 
Paris  they  get  worse  every  day.  The  Government  is  weak ; 
the  "Comite  central"  who  rules  in  Paris  gets  stronger. 
The  last  news  is  that  they  propose  to  do  away  with  every 
one  who  opposes  them,  and  an  old  instrument  of  summary 
punishment  is  openly  spoken  of,  the  Guillotine.  A  reign 
of  terror  seems  about  to  commence.    The  ' '  Comite ' '  advises 


210  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 

Age  29 

the  killing  of  all  the  Orleans  family  and  the  Bonapartes; 
every  Pretender  to  the  throne ;  also  the  arrest  and  punish- 
ment of  any  member  of  the  National  Assembly  who  can 
be  caught.  Is  it  not  a  charming  state  of  things?  They 
already  "make  requisitions"  in  Paris  which  is  a  polite 
term  for  stealing.  Thank  heaven,  Ave  are  not  there.  People 
are  leaving  the  dangerous  city  and  Blois  and  Tour  are  full 
of  refugees.  If  the  Commune  had  succeeded  in  establishing 
itself  where  it  was  tried  in  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Toulouse,  etc., 
we  should  not  have  dared  to  remain  in  France,  for  the 
dangerous  ideas  might  then  have  been  propagated  through- 
out the  provinces,  but  fortunately  the  people  in  the  country 
are  more  reasonable  than  in  Paris  and  the  Commune  when 
proclaimed  found  no  supporters  and  fell  to  the  ground,  so 
Paris  alone  holds  out.  I  see  the  banker,  Hottinguer,  was 
one  of  the  wounded  in  the  affair  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  and 
Place  Vendome.  He  was  reported  killed  and  afterward  as 
only  wounded ;  I  don 't  know  which  is  true.  The  great 
event  of  our  day  here  is  the  arrival  of  the  postman;  there 
is  a  scramble  for  letters  and  newspapers ;  the  ' '  latest  news ' ' 
from  Paris  is  read  out.  There  is  a  general  discussion  as  to 
whether  ''It  looks  better  or  worse."  We  go  ofP  to  see  the 
Regisseur,  M.  Arnould,  to  compare  notes  and  opinions  as 
to  the  state  of  things.  He  sends  me  all  his  daily  newspapers 
and  we  send  him  ours.  We  have  four  daily  now.  Today 
there  were  neither  papers  nor  letters  and  we  are  very  anx- 
ious, for  such  a  thing  has  never  happened  before.  Today 
it  is  four  weeks  that  we  have  been  here  and  we  only  ex- 
pected to  remain  a  week  or  ten  days. 

Saturday,  April  1. 
Two  travelers  just  arrived  from  Paris  report  communi- 
cations almost  cut.  They  left  in  the  last  train  last  night ; 
almost  all  the  railways  are  stopped,  the  gates  of  the  city  are 
closed.  No  one  knows  what  is  going  to  happen.  We  prob- 
ably shall  stay  on  here  until  Paris  is  once  more  herself.  By 
the  way,  please  keep  my  letters  since  last  September  during 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  211 

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Age  29 

all  the  war,  I  hope  you  have  not  burned  them.  I  would 
like  to  have  them  as  reminiscences  of  all  I  have  seen.  Also 
if  you  happen  to  have  kept  any  of  the  last  winter's  "New 
York  Tribunes";  keep  them  still  for  me.  I  am  curious  to 
see  what  the  opinion  of  the  United  States  press  was  as  re- 
gards the  war;  I  have  never  seen  a  United  States  news- 
paper since  the  beginning  of  the  war. 


JOURNAL 

April  3—5. 
Three  years  ago  today  we  arrived  in  Paris;  oh,  what  a 
miserable  day  it  was.  Some  of  us  ill,  I  miserable,  and  no 
end  of  discomforts  to  encounter.  Today  it  is  charming  and 
we  would  be  very  happy  were  it  not  for  the  weary  waiting 
for  Paris  to  tranquilize.  Affairs  do  not  improve  there ;  the 
Government  is  helpless ;  the  rebels  grow  stronger  and  more 
impudent.  The  last  report,  however,  is  that  General  Vinoy 
has  beaten  them.  They  attempted  a  sortie  but  he  drove 
them  back,  killing  great  numbers  and  giving  no  quarter. 
The  posts  are  suppressed  to  and  from  Paris ;  we  receive  no 
letters,  and  the  papers  come  irregularly.  It  seems  as  though 
we  would  never  get  to  Paris ;  if  this  state  of  things  goes  on 
much  longer  I  shall  give  up  going  there  entirely,  and  go 
to  Brussels  instead. 


LETTER 

Chambord,  April  10. 
My  Dear  S. : 

.  .  .  Isn't  the  state  of  Paris  shocking?  It  seems  as 
though  madness  had  seized  the  people.  The  Government 
should  not  have  let  the  storm  gather  without  interference 
until  it  was  too  late ;  we  are  so  anxious  for  every  detail  and 
news  comes  so  slowly.  Yesterday  a  cannonading  was  dis- 
tinctly heard  from  eight  in  the  morning  till  three  o'clock. 
It  seems  impossible  that  we  could  hear  the  cannon  at  Paris, 
yet  it  seems  it  could  only  come  from  there.    A  gentleman 


212  LETTEES  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

who  arrived  from  Orleans  yesterday  says  it  was  very  dis- 
tinct there.  The  air  was  heavy  all  day  and  at  three  it  be- 
gan to  rain  and  we  heard  the  cannon  no  more.  If  the  sound 
was  really  from  Paris  the  cannonading  must  have  been 
fearful  there.  I  see  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  and  his  sister, 
Mile.  Darboy,  the  Cure  of  the  Madeleine  and  several  other 
Prelates  have  been  arrested  by  the  insurgents  and  their 
houses  pillaged.  M.  Thiers'  house,  which  is  a  perfect  mus- 
eum, is  "sequestrated";  it  will  no  doubt  be  pillaged  also. 
We  long  to  get  to  Paris  because  we  want  to  settle  our  affairs 
there  and  leave  it  forever;  we  have  learned  to  hate  the 
place.  Hundreds  of  Parisians  are  seeking  to  buy  property 
in  Touraine,  saying  they  will  never  return  to  live  in  that 
accursed  city.  I,  of  course,  long  to  get  home ;  I  wonder  how 
it  will  seem  to  be  again  in  a  land  where  they  speak  English. 
Since  I  left  Paris  in  September  I  have  seen  only  two  Eng- 
lish people  to  speak  to.  As  to  reading,  except  the  "Times" 
at  Tours,  I  have  not  read  one  word  of  English  since  last 
June.  I  read  only  French  as  English  books  are  hard  to  get 
and  I  find  I  learn  better  to  speak  the  language  by  confining 
myself  exclusively  to  it.    I  think  I  speak  it  fairly  well  now. 


JOURNAL 


April  11. 
Today  we  went  to  Beaugency;  though  it  is  only  fifteen 
miles  away  we  had  much  trouble  to  reach  there.  We  drove 
to  the  river  with  M.  Arnould  's  donkey  and  cart ;  we  crossed 
the  river  in  a  row  boat  and  walked  from  the  other  bank 
to  the  station  at  Mer  where  we  took  the  train  and  in  ten 
minutes  reached  Beaugency,  which  is  one  of  the  stupidest 
little  towns  I  ever  visited.  However,  we  wandered  about 
and  incidentally  saw  a  very  magnificent  Cafe  which  would 
have  graced  Paris  but  which  seemed  singularly  out  of  place 
in  this  small  town.  There  was  one  "bee  de  gaz"  lighted 
and  one  man  taking  coffee.  It  was  gloomy  and  we  hurried 
away.  Next  morning  we  took  a  charming  little  open  car- 
riage and  with  a  gay  young  mobile,  just  returned  from  the 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  213 

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Age  29 

war,  to  drive  us,  we  set  off  on  a  long  day 's  excursion.  We 
passed  first  Vernon  and  Croavant,  villages  where  half  the 
houses  have  holes  in  their  roofs  made  by  obus  and  bullets ; 
Beaumont,  where  some  of  the  bitterest  fighting  was  and 
where  there  were  two  hundred  casques  in  a  barn.  Thence 
we  drove  to  a  large  lime  kiln  and  brick  yard.  It  was  the 
most  desolate  object  imaginable;  the  walls  were  a  heap  of 
stones;  the  roof  had  disappeared  save  in  one  place  where 
it  lay  flat  on  the  ground.  We  found  a  woman  in  charge  of 
the  place;  she  issued  apparently  from  the  great  lime  kiln 
where  they  burned  the  lime  with  a  baby  in  her  arms.  She 
told  us  that  when  the  battle  began  her  husband  was  away, 
and  that  she  and  her  child  crept  into  the  great  oven  or  fur- 
nace with  a  loaf  of  bread.  She  stopped  the  hole  and  there 
the  poor  creatures  lay  while  the  house  was  knocked  to 
pieces  over  their  heads.  They  remained  there  two  days 
and  two  nights.  The  woman  told  us  the  building  was  taken 
by  the  French,  retaken  by  the  Prussians  and  twice  again 
changed  hands.  At  last  the  Prussians  remained  in  control 
and  all  being  still  the  poor  woman  crept  out  and  begged 
some  food  of  the  German  soldiers  who  fortunately  gave  it 
to  her  and  let  her  go  on  to  the  next  village.  We  picked 
up  a  number  of  bullets  and  pieces  of  bombs  with  which  the 
ground  was  covered.  The  fields  were  marked  here  and 
there  with  small  mounds  where  they  told  us  lay  four 
French  mobiles  in  one  place,  then  ten  Prussians  in  another ; 
but  the  bodies  were  so  badly  covered  that  fearful  odours 
emanated  from  the  graves  and  the  woman  advised  us  not 
to  approach.  We  drove  on  toward  Josne,  passing  often  the 
skeletons  of  horses  bleaching  in  the  sun.  It  gave  a  ghastly 
appearance  to  the  smiling  meadows  and  was  a  most  striking 
sign  of  the  terrible  conflict  that  took  place  there  a  few 
months  ago.  All  the  farm  houses  showed  signs  of  having 
been  used  as  military  positions ;  holes  in  the  roofs,  crumbled 
and  blackened  walls,  etc.  Every  wall  had  been  creneleated 
to  protect  riflemen.  In  driving  over  this  country  I  under- 
stood what  I  never  could  before  why  the  fighting  in  this 
region  had  all  been  from  one  village  to  another  or  from  one 
farm  house  to  the  next.  La  Beauce  is  as  flat  as  a  floor  with 
scarcely  perceptible  waves  in  the  landscape.  Occasionally 
there  is  a  sort  of  ground  swell  and  at  every  mile  there  is 
a  hamlet,  a  farm  or  a  village.  As  neither  army  had  time  to 
throw  up  works  or  dig  trenches  and  there  were  no  natural 
advantages  of  ground,  the  men  were  necessarily  reduced 


214  LETTEES  AND  JOUBNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

to  seizing  every  house  and  wall  as  a  defence.  .  .  .  Near 
Josnes  there  was  a  slight  wave  in  the  ground  and  there  we 
were  told  terrible  fighting  took  place.  It  is  a  lovely  village 
with  a  great  Protestant  church.  I  never  saw  a  more  smil- 
ing, cheerful  little  town,  very  clean,  very  picturesque  with 
a  general  air  of  well  being.  We  stopped  at  a  cafe  to  lunch 
and  had  a  talk  with  the  proprietor,  the  blacksmith,  the 
grocer,  the  sexton  of  the  church,  the  miller  and  the  car- 
penter, all  assembled  there.  We  inquired  for  relies  of  the 
war,  but  we  found,  as  before,  scarcely  anything.  The 
peasants  were  afraid  to  pick  things  up  for  fear  of  the 
Prussians  returning  or  if  they  had  preserved  and  concealed 
a  few  helmets  and  guns  they  had  since  sold  them  for  old 
iron  and  brass.  We  passed  along  the  forest  of  Marchenoire 
and  the  Route  de  Vendome,  which  Chanzy  followed  when 
he  disappeared  one  night  from  before  the  army  of  Prince 
Frederick  Charles.  It  was  a  great  blunder,  as  it  proved, 
for  the  German  army  was  small  and  weary,  the  French  had 
a  good  position  and  had  held  it  well  for  four  days  and 
could  have  made  a  good  stand.  But  alas,  they  had  no 
heart  I  fancy,  and  they  slipped  away  in  the  darkness 
through  the  forest  of  Marchenoire.  One  of  the  few  vic- 
tories gained  by  the  French  was  just  here  several  weeks 
before,  but  Coulmiers  and  Marchenoire  saw  the  sad  retreat, 
the  eighth  and  ninth  of  December.  Well,  that  war  is  over 
now  and  a  perhaps  sadder  and  more  terrible  war  is  begun, 
and  still  rages  under  the  walls  of  Paris.  This  civil  war, 
which  is  horrifying  all  those  who  care  for  France  which 
seems  to  be  in  danger  of  becoming  another  Poland.  As  we 
drove  back  over  the  fruitful  fields  of  La  Beauce  to  Beau- 
gency  the  green  grain  was  springing  up  and  peach  blossoms 
floating  softly  to  the  ground  where  shot  and  shell  had 
rained,  and  no  one  could  have  told  that  under  that  soil 
lay  many  a  form  once  full  of  fire  and  courage.  I  saw  in 
one  meadow  a  white  daisy  nodding  its  head  over  a  frag- 
ment of  shell,  ( eclat  d  'obus) .  The  little  ' '  Paquerette ' '  did 
not  seem  the  least  afraid  of  that  cold  iron  that  had  perhaps 
struck  death  to  the  heart  of  a  warrior.  We  were  rather 
thoughtful  as  we  drove  home.  Our  driver,  however,  the 
gay  young  soldier,  kept  singing  to  himself  ' '  C  'est  le  sort  le 
plus  beau — le  plus  digne  d'envie  que  de  mourir  pour  la 
patrie. "  He  looked,  however,  as  though  he  infinitely  pre- 
ferred all  the  same  to  "vivre  pour  la  patrie"  and  I  found 
life  so  enjoyable  with  the  warm  air,  the  sunshine,  the  flow- 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  215 

1871 
Age  29 

ers  and  the  green  meadows  before  me  that  I  agreed  with 
his  mood  rather  than  with  the  sentiments  he  expressed. 
...  We  left  Beaugency  next  day  and  at  the  broken 
bridge  of  Mer  we  saw  on  the  other  side  A.  and  K.  waiting 
for  us.  We  crossed  in  the  boat  and  were  welcomed  by  our 
small  daughter.  Chariot,  the  donkey,  brought  us  safely 
home. 


LETTERS 

Chambord,  April  14. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  nearly  cried  this  morning  when  I  read  in  your  letter 
"Only  four  more  letters  to  receive  from  Emma."  Alas, 
there  will  be  many  more  than  that,  I  fear.  I  can't  even 
see  the  day  when  we  may  leave.  I  have  heard  from  the 
steamer  company  about  sailings  and  I  hope  I  may  be  ready 
for  the  "Ville  de  Paris"  which  will  leave  Brest  the  27th 
of  May,  but  if  I  am  not  ready  then  I  must  wait  till  the 
"Pereire"  which  sails  the  eighth  of  June  from  Havre.  It 
seems  an  interminable  time.  .  .  .  You  never  saw  more 
lovely  weather  than  we  are  having;  if  you  looked  from 
my  window  you  would  see  a  scene  of  perfect  beauty.  The 
grass  is  like  velvet,  the  almond  and  peach  and  apple  trees 
stand  out  on  the  background  of  pine  groves  and  chestnut 
avenues,  the  Chateau  lies  shining  in  all  its  graceful  beauty 
in  the  sunlight,  the  white  church  front  with  its  marble 
saints  and  angels  peeping  from  among  the  green  trees.  The 
pretty  gabled  Nuns'  house  nestling  modestly  in  the  grove 
almost  hidden  from  sight  like  the  good  Sisters  who  inhabit 
it.  The  little  river  ripples  over  its  stones  and  the  stone 
arches  of  the  bridge  are  reflected  in  the  water  as  well  as  the 
men  in  blue  blouses,  the  slow  moving  wagons  of  the  farm- 
ers, the  donkey  carts,  and  peasant  boys  and  girls  who  cross 
it.  These  now  instead  of  the  Kings  and  Knights  and  gay 
ladies  and  cavaliers  who  came  and  went  in  royal  cavalcades 
in  days  gone  by.    Are  the  new  times  better  than  the  old? 


216  LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

To  judge  from  the  present  state  of  France,  emphatically 
no!  .  .  .  We  went  Tuesday  to  Beaugency  to  visit  the 
battle  fields  and  surrounding  country.  We  found  200  Prus- 
sian helmets  stored  in  a  barn  which  had  been  gathered  on 
the  battle  field,  but  all  the  brass  ornaments  had  been  pulled 
off  and  sold  to  a  Jew  merchant.  Nothing  was  left  but  the 
leather  cap.  I  asked  the  man  by  whom  they  were  collected 
why  he  had  not  kept  them  intact  as  relics  to  sell ;  he  stared 
and  said  ''Why,  what  would  any  one  want  of  those 
things?"  We  got  a  bomb,  an  unexploded  one,  but  from 
which  all  the  powder  had  been  withdrawn,  which  we  mean 
to  use  for  an  ink  bottle.  It  now  holds  water  and  a  sprig 
of  flowers,  but  it  is  rather  an  awful  thing  when  one  thinks 
what  it  was  meant  for.  I  got  a  few  silver  and  brass  eagles, 
lions,  etc.,  from  the  fronts  of  helmets,  the  Prussian  and  Ba- 
varian arms,  etc,  I  have  a  fine  Bavarian  helmet  which  I 
mean  to  bring  to  A.,  and  a  steel  one  of  a  white  cuirassier. 
We  were  well  satisfied  with  our  little  excursion  and  came 
back  on  Thursday.  It  is  three  days  now  since  all  communi- 
cation with  Paris  was  cut  off;  we  have  not  an  idea  what 
is  going  on  there.  The  only  comfort  is  that  the  worse 
things  get  the  nearer  the  end  must  be.  They  say  provisions 
are  nearly  as  high  as  during  the  siege;  hardly  anything 
enters. 

Chambord,  April  21, 
My  Dear  Father: 

You  can  hardly  imagine  in  what  a  painful  state  of  un- 
certainty we  still  are ;  we  came  here  for  two  weeks  and  we 
have  stayed  two  months.  I  expected  to  have  sailed  for  home 
the  first  of  May,  and  now  I  shall  think  myself  lucky  if  I 
get  off  by  the  first  of  July.  Pity  us ;  we  worried  and  lan- 
guished through  the  long  weary  winter  with  the  fearful 
war  raging  about  us,  and  now  we  are  hampered  and  dis- 
tressed by  a  civil  war  which  drags  its  slow  length  along. 
The  newspapers  are  most  unsatisfactory,  the  Government 
likewise.     M.  Thiers  gives  us  a  sugar  plum  every  day  to 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  217 

1871 
Age  29 

keep  ts  quiet.  He  tells  us  there  has  been  a  skirmish  here 
or  a  /ight  there,  that  the  troops  have  lost  two  men,  but 
that  the  insurgents  lost  three;  that  "things  are  going  on 
as  wdl  as  can  be  expected ' '  and  that "  in  a  certain  number  of 
days  no  doubt  order  will  be  restored."  The  truth  is  that  the 
Prorinces  are  getting  tired  of  this  and  they  begin  openly 
to  say  "It  will  end  at  last  by  the  Prussians  putting  order 
in  Paris,  and  we  heartily  wish  they  would  hurry  and  do  it. ' ' 
Isn't  it  a  terrible  state  of  things,  when  the  enemy  is  looked 
to,  to  keep  order  in  the  Capital  and  that  Capital  the  city 
of  cities  that  was  a  Queen  and  the  light  of  the  world.  It 
seems  to  us  as  though  the  world  was  getting  topsy-turvy, 
this  side  of  it  at  least.  Thank  Heaven  there  is  another  side 
where  peace  reigns  at  present.  And  all  the  trouble  here 
comes  from  the  "Liberte,  Egalite,  Fraternite"  nonsense! 
I  wish  I  might  never  hear  those  words  again.  All  this 
fracas  and  confusion  is  very  wearing  on  the  nerves,  so  for- 
give me  if  I  seem  violent  and  impatient  sometimes.  You 
cannot  conceive  what  a  pleasure  your  home  letters  are; 
calm  seems  to  come  over  us  when  I  read  the  details  of  your 
quiet  home  life  in  your  peaceful  country.  We  often  ex- 
claim:— Isn't  it  pleasant  to  read  something  besides  fights 
and  bombardments  and  troops  and  prisoners;  how  it  does 
rest  one  to  hear  from  home.  I  appreciate  your  pleasure  in 
being  again  in  the  garden;  I  revel  in  the  spring  freshness 
here;  we  are  overwhelmed  with  flowers.  One  moment  a 
little  village  girl  comes  to  bring  me  a  huge  bunch  of  lilacs, 
at  another  the  Sisters  send  K.  a  bouquet  of  garden  flowers, 
at  another,  a  little  peasant  boy  comes  with  a  present  from 
the  forest  guard  to  me  of  a  basket  of  wild  flowers.  Our 
little  dining  room  looks  like  a  garden,  the  horse  chestnuts 
are  coming  into  bloom ;  Chambord  is  charming.  This  morn- 
ing a  woman  came  with  an  armful  of  branches  of  pine, 
covered  with  their  red  blossoms  for  me,  ' '  because, ' '  she  said, 
"it  was  so  healthy  to  smell  them  she  thought  they  would 
do  me  good. ' '  Poor  soul ;  I  gave  her  once  a  little  old  flan- 
nel blanket  for  her  baby  and  this  gift  of  hers  was  to  show 


218  LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 

Age  29 

her  gratitude  I  suppose.  .  .  .  We  went  for  a  lamble 
in  the  castle  today,  through  many  deserted  rooms,  gloomy 
halls,  reception  rooms  and  ghostly  bed-rooms  wher?  the 
paper  and  damask,  once  gorgeous,  hung  in  tatters  fron  the 
walls,  and  where  the  cobwebs  were  the  only  tapestry.  The 
doors  were  all  hacked  to  pieces  in  the  old  revolutioiary 
days,  to  destroy  the  Fleurs-de-Lis  carved  in  relief  on  them ; 
the  beautiful  panels  are  torn  down  and  lie  about  in  heaps. 
It  is  a  melancholy  sight.  We  lost  our  way  at  last  in  the 
wilderness  of  rooms,  each  one  barer  and  more  desolate  tlian 
the  last  and  finally  we  found  ourselves  creeping  up  a  once 
secret  staircase  built  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  and  we 
came  suddenly  on  a  pool  of  dried  blood  on  the  floor  aid 
bloody  finger  marks  on  the  wall.  It  gave  one  an  uncanny 
feeling.  We  both  knew  it  was,  no  doubt,  where  some  poor 
wounded  soldier  had  hid  himself  in  the  Chateau  and  had 
lain  for  days,  fed  by  the  concierge  till  he  found  a  chance  to 
escape.  But  we  decamped  all  the  same.  The  wind  was 
whistling  and  wailing  through  the  turrets  as  we  scrambled 
through  the  dust  and  the  shadows  and  I  assure  you  I  felt 
more  cheerful  when  I  got  out  into  the  fresh  air  and  heard 
the  cheery  voice  of  the  concierge  hailing  us. 

Chambord,  May  5. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

What  can  I  tell  you  about  this  week;  very  little  I  fear 
unless  about  K.  's  fete  last  Monday,  which  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen.  I  had  ordered  of  the  baker  here  a  great 
' '  Galette ' '  a  sort  of  Sally  Lunn,  at  least,  it  looked  like  that 
only  it  is  less  rich;  then  there  were  two  very  plain  cakes 
sugared  over,  with  a  rose  in  the  middle  of  the  sugar.  Then 
there  was  some  jam  and  plain  candies,  such  as  lemon  drops, 
and  sticks  of  barley  sugar,  wrapped  up  in  brilliant  papers, 
— and  lastly,  a  lot  of  sugar  birds,  rabbits,  parrots,  lambs, 
dogs,  camels,  elephants.  These  animals  were  not  to  be 
eaten  as  they  were  coloured  but  were  for  the  children  to 
keep  as  a  souvenir  of  the  fete.    We  had  it  in  the  garden  of 


LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL  219 

1871 
Age  29 

the  Sisters'  house;  there  are  trees  and  shrubs  there,  and 
plenty  of  swings,  hoops  and  other  amusements,  as  they  use 
it  as  a  play  ground  for  their  little  school  girls.  They  set 
out  a  table  and  ornamented  it  with  flowers.  It  was  a  lovely 
day,  as  warm  as  June.  There  were  twenty-five  little  girls 
and  I  think  they  had  never  had  a  fete  nor  tasted  cake  and 
candy  in  their  lives.  The  Sister  Superior  had  composed  a 
little  verse  and  chorus  which  the  children  sang.  At  three 
o  'clock  they  all  sat  round  the  table  and  ate  with  a  zest  that 
was  refreshing  to  see.  The  animals  and  birds  in  sugar 
gave  the  most  perfect  satisfaction;  before  and  after  this 
repast  the  children  played  and  at  five  went  home.  Each 
child  had  candy  to  take  home,  which  was  given  to  her  as  she 
came  up  to  make  her  little  curtsey  and  to  thank  me  for 
the  party.  I  think  the  three  Sisters  enjoyed  it  nearly  as 
much  as  the  children ;  they  love  their  little  school  girls  and 
were  so  pleased  to  see  them  happy.  They  are  so  nice,  these 
three  Sisters,  as  different  in  character  as  can  be.  The  Su- 
perior is  an  old  lady  of  noble  family  who  is  jolly  and  ener- 
getic and  as  full  of  talk  as  possible;  very  practical  and 
always  busy  with  her  garden  and  her  flowers,  her  sick  and 
her  poor.  The  younger  one,  Soeur  Marie,  is  as  beautiful  as 
the  day;  she  is  about  twenty  and  she  takes  care  of  the 
school ;  a  lovelier,  more  patient,  gentle  teacher  it  would  be 
impossible  to  find.  The  Soeur  St.  Denis  is  the  ''Martha" 
of  the  establishment;  she  is  always  busy  with  her  kitchen, 
her  ironing,  her  dusting  and  cleaning.  She  is  constantly 
knitting  huge  blue  stockings.  She  confesses  that  her 
prayers  do  not  take  her  long  and  that  if  she  smells  some- 
thing burning  she  cuts  them  short!  In  fact,  there  is  so 
little  cant  and  so  much  that  is  normal  and  cheerful,  not  to 
say  jolly  about  them,  that  I  find  them  very  charming  ac- 
quaintances. .  .  .  There  was  a  despatch  this  morning 
saying  the  Fort  of  Vanvres  was  occupied  by  the  Versaillais ; 
they  now  hold  Vanvres  and  Issy  and  I  hope  in  a  few  days 
they  will  enter  Paris.  After  they  are  once  in  I  fear  there 
may  yet  be  fighting  in  the  streets,  but  that  will  not  last 


220  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

long.  Since  I  wrote  last  week  I  have  seen  and  done  nothing 
except  that  on  Saturday  I  went  to  Blois  for  a  little 
shopping.  I  visited  several  of  the  old  churches  and  sat  a 
while  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Chateau  which  is  very  beau- 
tiful. .  .  .  Last  night  we  went  into  the  forest  to  hear 
the  nightingales;  they  sing  almost  all  night.  It  is  a  per- 
fect concert ;  one  could  hear  nothing  sweeter.  Each  one 
seems  to  try  which  can  sing  loudest  and  clearest.  I  have 
waked  often  at  three  or  four  in  the  morning  and  heard 
the  concert  still  going  on  in  the  chestnut  avenue  outside  my 
window.    Chambord  is  celebrated  for  its  nightingales. 

Chambord,  May  15. 
The  weather  is  clear  and  beautiful,  with  a  breeze  each 
day  which  keeps  us  cool;  last  year  we  were  having  very 
hot  weather  at  this  time.  I  see  the  definitive  Treaty  of 
Peace  between  France  and  Prussia  is  at  last  signed,  but  I 
believe  the  Articles  are  not  altered  or  improved  as  the 
French  hoped.  They  might  have  obtained  concessions  but 
for  the  troubles  at  Paris;  with  the  insurrection  the  last 
hope  vanished  of  an  improvement  in  the  terms  of  peace.  I 
fear  that  the  occupation  of  Paris  will  not  finish  the  civil 
war ;  subdued  there,  it  will  break  out  elsewhere  and  so  con- 
tinue until  a  definite  form  of  government  is  decided  upon 
and  fully  established.  Heaven  alone  knows  when  that  will 
be  or  through  what  seas  of  blood  the  French  nation  must 
pass  before  it  arrives  at  that  goal.  I  see  today  in  the  paper 
a  letter  from  the  Comte  de  Chambord  which  makes  me  wish 
more  than  ever  that  he  might  ascend  the  throne  of  his  an- 
cestors ;  the  letter  is  so  manly  and  honourable  and  the  senti- 
ments expressed  so  liberal.  He  has  always  preferred  the 
peace  of  France  to  his  own  aggrandizement  and  has  never 
made  any  attempt  to  recover  the  throne  of  France.  He 
has  always  declared  he  would  die  in  exile  unless  the  French 
nation,  by  its  freely  expressed  vote,  demanded  his  presence. 
I  fear  he  has  little  chance  and  doubt  he  ever  returns.  The 
Commune  has  decreed  that  the  house  of  M.  Thiers  shall  be 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  221 

1871 
Age  29 

razed  to  the  ground  and  I  believe  it  is  already  executed.  I 
hope  order  may  be  restored  before  they  have  destroyed  all 
the  historic  monuments;  they  have  begun  to  destroy  the 
Colonne  Vendome.  No  doubt  you  will  know  all  this  through 
newspapers.  I  see  in  Rome  the  Pope  has  been  ill  but  is 
better;  the  Italian  Government  has  given  up  the  removal 
of  the  Capital  to  Rome  or  rather  delayed  it  to  November 
next.  I  hope  they  will  let  the  poor  old  Pope  die  in  peace 
before  they  go  there.  If  Pius  IX  lives  till  next  August  he 
will  have  been  Pope  twenty-five  years ;  no  one  has  occupied 
the  Papal  Chair  for  so  long  a  term  of  years.  There  will  be 
a  great  ceremony  in  case  he  lives.  I  should  like  to  see  it, 
but  suppose  it  will  be  shorn  of  magnificence  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

Charabord,  May  29. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

Your  letter  of  the  8th  of  May  reached  me  last  week, 
the  day  after  I  sent  mine  to  you.  It  was  a  white  letter 
day  to  me  because  of  the  home  letter  with  its  cheerful  news 
and  also  because  we  heard  that  the  army  had  entered  Paris. 
I  daresay  you  had  the  news  sooner  than  we  did.  But  since 
that  happy  day  we  have  had  sad  ones;  oh,  so  sad,  in  hear- 
ing that  our  beautiful  Paris  was  a  prey  to  the  flames.  I 
never  dreamed  I  cared  so  much  for  Paris  till  this  news 
came;  I  feel  dismayed,  and  dread,  as  much  as  I  desire,  to 
§0  back.  I  long  to  go,  and  yet  I  know  it  will  be  a  heart- 
rending sight.  Just  think  of  the  Tuileries,  the  Ministry  of 
Finance,  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  whole  Rue  Royale,  the 
palace  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  the  Louvre  (the  shop)  all 
burned,  the  Bon  Marche  is  burnt,  the  ''Petit  St.  Thomas" 
burnt,  and,  oh,  so  many  other  buildings  that  I  cannot  name 
them.  The  Hotel  du  Louvre  is  also  partly  burned ;  besides 
these,  there  is  the  Prefecture  of  Police,  Conseil  d'Etat 
Palais  Royal,  the  Luxembourg,  the  Louvre  Library  and  oth- 
er public  buildings,  without  mentioning  innumerable  priv- 
ate residences;  in  that  Rue  Caumartin,  where  you  stayed 


222  LETTERS  AND  JOUENAL 

1871 
Age  29 

when  you  first  arrived  in  Paris  during  the  great  Exposi- 
tion the  bombs  have  fallen  till  hardly  a  house  remains  which 
is  not  full  of  great  gaps  and  holes.  All  the  shops  and 
houses  between  the  Rue  Castiglione  and  the  Eue  d 'Alger; 
several  buildings  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore  near  the 
Rue  Royale,  are  destroyed.  They  have  caught  women  and 
children  throwing  petroleum  and  lighted  rags  in  the  areas 
and  through  the  cellar- ways ;  hundreds  of  these  abominable 
women  have  been  taken  and  shot.  They  are  the  wives,  sis- 
ters or  mistresses  of  the  dastardly  villains  who  have  set 
fire  to  half  of  Paris,  killed  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  and 
sixty  parish  priests  and  respectable  men  in  cold  blood,  and 
who  have  not  their  equal  it  is  to  be  hoped  anywhere  else 
in  the  world  for  wickedness  and  brutality.  There  was 
wailing  and  mourning  today  at  Blois  and  here  when  the 
news  came  that  the  Archbishop  and  the  Cure  of  the  Made- 
leine were  dead,  shot  by  the  insurgents.  They  were  men 
who  were  loved  and  esteemed  by  every  one,  no  matter  of 
what  belief.  No  better  man  breathed  than  the  poor  Cure 
Daguery;  he  was  an  angel  of  goodness  and  mercy  to  the 
poor  of  Paris.  And  just  think,  there  are  men  still  in 
France  who  are  base  enough  to  approve  of  all  that !  I  saw 
a  red  republican  paper  of  Bordeaux  today  which  actually 
glorifies  the  insurgents  of  Paris  for  what  they  have  done. 
It  says  if  the  Assembly  does  not  proclaim  a  Republic  and 
the  Communal  system  at  once,  they  will  soon  have  more 
work  on  their  hands.  God  be  thanked  I  am  going  away 
from  France;  I  do  not  feel  safe.  I  fear  the  same  trouble 
may  break  out  in  some  towns  of  the  Provinces,  and  then 
indeed  God  help  France.  I  feel  so  stunned  and  horrified 
with  the  events  of  the  last  week  that  I  cannot  write  very 
well;  my  ideas  are  not  clear.  We  can  think  of  nothing 
but  Paris  and  are  possessed  with  a  feverish  longing  for 
news,  which  when  it  arrives  so  horrifies  us  that  we  stand 
silent  and  look  in  each  other's  faces  with  blank  amazement. 
Today  when  the  despatch  came  about  the  Archbishop  and 
the  sixty-four  others  f usiladed,  everybody — M.  Arnould,  the 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  223 

1871 
Age  29 

Sisters,  0.,  the  family  here  and  myself  broke  down  in 
despair.  It  was  too  much  after  the  horrible  shocks  we 
have  had  daily  and  almost  hourly  for  a  week,  and  when  the 
papers  had  even  announced  the  prisoners  as  rescued,  to 
hear  that  sixty-four  innocent  men  had  been  shot  at  the 
moment  when  the  soldiers  of  Verasailles  had  come  to  res- 
cue them.  It  is  true  that  one  hundred  and  sixty-nine  pris- 
oners were  saved,  but  at  such  a  moment  one  thinks  more 
of  the  lost  than  of  the  saved.  The  women  of  Paris  seem 
to  be  as  bad  if  not  worse  than  the  men ;  they  have  already 
fusiladed  twenty  of  these  abominable  creatures  who  were 
taken  with  revolvers  in  their  hands  after  they  had  killed 
several  of  the  regular  soldiers.  They  have  used  watering 
cans  of  petroleum  to  set  fire  to  houses,  public  and  private, 
and  do  you  know — when  the  whole  of  one  side  of  the  Rue 
Royale  was  burning  some  one  noticed  that  the  water  ( ?) 
thrown  from  a  fire  engine  seemed  to  increase  instead  of 
extinguish  the  flame.  Examination  disclosed  that  the  en- 
gine was  filled  with  petroleum  instead  of  water;  the  men 
working  these  engines  were  found  to  be  insurgents. 
25,000  prisoners  have  been  taken  and  most  of  the  heads  of 
the  Rebellion  have  been  shot.  The  Prussians  have  allowed 
no  man  to  escape  through  their  lines  and  all  the  Ambassa- 
dors have  refused  passports  to  any  member  of  the  Com- 
mune, even  should  he  claim  one  on  account  of  his  foreign 
nationality.  England,  Belgium,  Spain  and  Italy  have  re- 
fused entrance  to  any  insurgents,  and  if  one  be  taken  with- 
in their  borders  he  will  be  sent  back  to  the  French  Govern- 
ment. What  is  not  burnt  of  Paris  is  in  an  awful  condition ; 
the  trees  along  the  boulevards  and  the  Champs  Elysees  are 
cut  up  with  balls  and  shells  and  most  of  them  will  die. 
Hardly  a  house  but  is  battered  with  shells  and  bullets. 
Belleville  is  burning ;  every  day  we  hear  of  new  fires  which 
have  broken  out.  The  manufacture  of  the  Gobelins  tap- 
estry is  burnt;  Auteuil,  that  beautiful  suburb,  hardly  ex- 
ists. Passy  is  much  injured.  Our  quarter  about  the  Rue 
Chaillot  has  not  suffered  as  much,  but  the  Rue  de  Pres- 


224  LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 

Age  29 

bourg  is  fearfully  damaged.  The  Avenue  de  1 'Imperatrice 
leading  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  is  a  wreck ;  all  about  Mme, 
Borione's  at  Les  Ternes  is  hardly  recognizable  they  say; 
houses  in  ruins,  roofless,  without  fronts  showing  all  the 
rooms  inside,  heaps  of  stones,  mortar  and  walls,  such  is  the 
quarter  of  Paris  which  you  used  to  know.  I  could  go  on 
writing  all  night  if  I  tried  to  tell  you  all ;  I  daresay  you  will 
see  all  the  details  in  your  newspapers;  as  yet  no  one  can 
enter  Paris  but  we  hope  to  do  so  in  a  week.  I  have  definite- 
ly engaged  my  passage  in  the  "Lafayette"  for  the  24th  of 
June,  Unless  something  unforeseen  occurs  you  may  expect 
me  to  land  about  the  third  or  fourth  of  July,  God  willing. 
But  one  feels  uncertain  of  everything  these  times ;  you  can- 
not conceive  how  all  these  shocks  and  horrors  upset  me. 
The  thought  of  your  peaceful  quiet  home  seems  like  a 
dream;  it  seems  scarcely  possible  that  anywhere  people 
should  be  living  in  peace,  security  and  serenity.  Oh, 
blessed  home,  it  seems  so  far  away,  except  when  your  let- 
ters come  to  take  me  there  in  imagination.  The  United 
States  is  a  celestial  paradise  compared  with  the  hell  which 
exists  in  France.  I  have  often  been  asked  ' '  Are  your  Red 
Republicans  in  the  United  States  like  ours  here?"  And  I 
am  glad  to  reply  ' '  God  be  thanked,  no ! "  Let  me  turn  to 
something  else  if  I  can  find  it.  We  have  been  eating  the 
most  splendid  strawberries  for  three  days ;  great  pineapple 
strawberries.  Green  peas  and  beans  we  have  eaten  for  a 
week ;  they  are  perfectly  delicious. 

Tuesday  Morning: — A  coachman  who  came  here  this 
morning  says  that  one  is  allowed  to  enter  Paris ;  I  doubt  it, 
but  we  shall  try  at  the  end  of  this  week.  I  only  hope  it 
will  not  be  unhealthy.  The  Government  is  taking  all  the 
necessary  measures  for  safeguarding  the  public  health; 
they  talk  of  burning  the  dead,  because  buried  they  might 
infect  the  air.  Paris  was  and  is  in  a  terribly  dirty  condi- 
tion; the  streets  have  not  been  cleaned  for  two  months, 
we  are  told. 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  225 

1871 
Ago  29 

Chambord,  June  2, 
My  Dear  Father: 

.  .  .  You  will  have  read  in  your  newspaper  the  de- 
tails of  the  doings  in  Paris.  You  will  think  the  accounts 
much  exaggerated;  alas,  no;  the  truth  is  so  fearful  that  it 
cannot  be  made  worse  than  it  is.  There  were  days  when 
blood  ran  in  the  gutters,  when  fifty  corpses  were  ranged 
along  the  sidewalk  in  one  street,  and  there  they  waited 
twenty-four  hours  to  be  buried.  I  have  seen  a  few  people 
who  have  been  in  Paris  during  the  fighting ;  they  grew  pale 
and  sick  in  simply  telling  what  they  had  seen.  Thanl^  God 
it  is  over  now.  The  leaders  of  the  insurrection  have  been 
shot;  the  rest  will  be  tried.  We  had  a  letter  today  from 
the  concierge  of  the  studio;  she  says  she  would  rather  go 
through  another  Prussian  siege  and  live  on  black  bread  than 
pass  again  through  the  last  two  months.  All  is  safe  at  the 
studio ;  nothing  has  been  injured.  The  artists  in  the  build- 
ing who  remained  through  the  first  siege,  left  during  this 
one  and  have  not  yet  returned.  ...  I  was  glad  to  see 
in  the  papers  yesterday  that  there  has  been  a  unanimous 
cry  of  indignation  in  the  United  States  against  the  insur- 
gents of  Paris.  I  was  sure  it  would  be  so.  I  see  that  Victor 
Hugo  has  settled  his  reputation  with  the  public  by  taking 
the  defence  of  the  Communists  and  offering  them  a  refuge 
in  his  house.  His  letter,  published  in  Brussels  where  he 
is  residing,  was  about  the  most  outrageous  thing  I  have 
seen  yet.  I  hear  the  Belgian  Government  has  invited  him 
to  quit  Brussels  and  Belgium ! 

Paris,  June  12. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

At  last  we  are  in  Paris;  I  began  to  think  we  should 
never  get  here  but  at  last  we  are  safely  arrived.  We  got 
off  last  Wednesday  morning  and  such  a  leave-taking  as 
it  was !  M.  Arnould,  the  regisseur,  came  three  times  in  the 
morning  to  say  that  all  the  Chateau  afforded  was  at  our 
disposition;  horses,  carriages,  wagons,  etc.     We  had  the 


226  LETTEES  AND  JOURNAL 

1871 
Age  29 

whole  village  to  bid  us  good-bye.  We  had  expected  to 
find  the  railway  crowded  with  people  going  to  Paris  and 
we  were  agreeably  surprised  to  secure  a  whole  compart- 
ment to  ourselves  and  to  keep  it  so  till  we  reached  Paris  at 
nine  o  'clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  dark  and  pouring  with 
rain.  They  never  asked  for  the  passport  which  it  had  given 
us  so  much  trouble  to  obtain ;  there  were  plenty  of  carriages 
and  omnibuses,  but  all  were  engaged,  and  we  really  thought 
we  should  have  to  walk  through  the  rain  to  an  hotel;  but 
at  last,  for  a  large  sum,  we  got  a  little  open  carriage  and 
drove  to  the  Champs  Elysees  past  all  the  ruins  of  Paris. 
It  was  so  sad,  so  dismal;  the  streets  but  half  lighted  and 
very  few  people  in  them.  The  rain,  the  wind  and  ruins 
everywhere.  I  fairly  cried  as  we  passed  the  Hotel  de  Ville ; 
the  Tuileries,  the  Rue  Royale,  the  Place  de  La  Concorde. 
Our  hotel  (Hotel  d'Albe)  was  shut  and  we  rang  for  ten 
minutes  before  a  sleepy  garcon  came  to  open ;  there  was  not 
a  guest  in  the  house.  They  gave  us  rooms  and  we  were 
glad  to  rest.  We  had  to  leave  our  baggage  at  the  station  as 
there  was  no  means  of  bringing  it ;  the  next  day  I  went  to 
hunt  for  lodgings  and  we  are  now  at  28  Rue  Bassano  with 
Miss  Ellis,  where  we  are  eminently  comfortable.  I  have 
started  my  shopping,  and  have  got  the  dressmaker  started ; 
she  is  working  only  for  me.  She  has  just  come  back  from 
St.  Germain,  where  she  was  during  the  troubles.  Of  course 
nobody  is  busy  now,  there  is  so  little  doing  and  every  one 
is  ready  to  serve  me.  .  .  .  And  now  I  have  not  yet  told 
you  a  word  about  Paris.  Well,  it  ^\^ll  be  better  to  wait 
till  I  see  you,  for  all  the  details.  Only  this  will  I  say,  that 
all  you  have  read  can  give  you  but  a  slight  idea  of  the  awful 
ruin  here.  It  is  worse  than  I  expected;  yes,  much  worse. 
The  Hotel  de  Ville  is  only  a  shell ;  the  Tuileries  ditto,  but 
they  are  superb  in  their  ruin.  A  curious  thing  is  that 
many  of  the  buildings  which  I  never  remarked  for  their 
beauty  now  they  are  in  ruins  are  wonderfully  grand.  The 
Palais  du  Quai  d'Orsay  recalls  the  Coliseum  to  me.  We 
were  wonderfully  struck  by  it.    We  walked  out  yesterday 


LETTERS  AND  JOURNAL  227 

1871 
Age  29 

on  the  Avenue  de  la  Grande  Armee;  there  are  not  six 
houses  left  that  are  habitable.  Half  at  least  are  just  heaps 
of  stones.  They  are  so  knocked  up  and  pierced  with  holes 
that  they  look  fantastic  and  one  wonders  by  what  magic 
they  keep  standing.  The  fine  residences  round  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  are  woefully  damaged;  the  facade  of  one  is  so 
broken  that  one  sees  the  inside  of  all  the  rooms.  I  noticed 
the  lace  curtains  at  the  salon  windows  were  so  cut  up  and 
ragged  they  looked  like  cobwebs.  The  frescoes  and  gilded 
walls  were  all  blackened,  cracked  and  knocked  into  holes. 
If  I  told  you  all  I  have  seen  already  I  should  fill  countless 
pages.  I  want  to  go  to  St.  Cloud  and  see  all  the  surround- 
ings ;  the  weather  is  bad  and  as  cold  as  November.     .     .     . 

And  yet,  after  all  I  have  said,  I  cannot  help  feeling 
that  had  the  nation  been  told  the  truth  in  all  its  hard 
reality,  had  they  known  the  worst  details,  their  defeats, 
and  the  difficulties  of  the  situation,  had  they  been  more 
relied  on  by  the  Government,  they  would  have  been  found 
trustworthy  and  courageous. 


1872 
Age  30 


LETTERS  OF  1872,  1873,  1874. 

Paris,  February  22,  1872. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  arrived  here  last  night  after  a  long,  but  fairly  com- 
fortable journey  from  Brest,  and  after  our  long  and  rather 
uncomfortable  voyage  from  New  York.  I  will  begin  at  the 
beginning  and  tell  you  all  about  our  voyage.  We  had 
scarcely  got  to  the  Narrows  after  leaving  New  York  and  I 
had  sent  off  my  letters  by  the  pilot  when  a  storm  began. 
The  sea  was  very  rough,  the  ship  rolled  and  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye  every  passenger  was  in  bed  and  very  sick. 
After  that  for  three  days  I  was  almost  unconscious  of  time. 
We  hardly  knew  when  one  day  ended  and  another  began; 
it  was  all  such  blank  misery.  The  second  day  out  we 
shipped  a  heavy  sea  which  came  in  at  the  upper  lights,  ran 
down  into  our  beds  and  soaked  half  the  room.  I  Avas  too 
sick  to  move ;  Amelia,  to  escape  drowning,  went  to  the  sofa 
with  K.  The  ' '  Pereire ' '  sadly  needed  repairs,  and  the  win- 
dows constantly  leaked,  so  things  went  on  badly  to  the  end 
of  the  voyage,  and  we  were  drenched  whenever  we  shipped 
a  sea.  Then  the  steam  pipes,  or  pump  or  something  broke 
and  could  not  be  mended  at  once;  so  we  never  could  get 
dried  out  and  when  it  was  mended  and  the  steam  turned  on 
and  the  pipes  were  hot  the  incoming  sea  water  pouring  on 
them  evaporated  in  clouds  of  hot  steam  which  filled  our 
rooms  and  took  the  little  starch  left,  out  of  us.  After 
Wednesday  we  all  did  better,  though  we  were  never  quite 
dry.  We  also  had  contrary  winds  and  roughish  weather, 
but  having  got  our  sea  legs  fairly  on  we  minded  it  less.  On 
landing  at  Brest  at  three  in  the  afternoon  we  were  disap- 
pointed in  the  special  train  for  Paris  which  we  were  told 


LETTERS  229 

1872 
Age   30 

was  always  put  on  when  the  steamer  arrived.  So  we  passed 
the  night  at  Brest  after  getting  safely  through  the  Custom 
House,  where  the  examination  is  much  more  rigorous  than 
before  the  war.  We  got  a  comfortable  room  at  an  hotel  and 
ordered  a  good  fire  for  we  hadn't  got  over  feeling  damp. 
The  temperature  was  mild,  however,  and  we  were  told  there 
had -been  no  snow  this  winter.  The  grass  looked  fresh  and 
green.  We  had  a  good  dinner  and  turned  in,  but  owing  to 
the  noise  in  the  streets  and  the  clicking  of  the  Breton  wood- 
en shoes  and  the  watchman  calling  all  the  hours  of  the 
night,  I  could  not  close  my  eyes.  It  was  nice  hearing  the 
watchman,  however,  the  ' '  garde  de  nuit ' '  crying  the  hours 
as  they  passed;  "line  heure  et  tout  va  bien;"  "Deux 
heure  et  le  temps  est  couvert;"  "Quatre  heure  tout  va 
bien,  braves  gens  dormez  tranquilles. "  Brest  keeps  up  the 
good  old  customs  and  it  gives  one  a  feeling  of  security  to 
feel  that  someone  is  watching  while  you  sleep.  At  seven 
the  next  morning  we  were  off  to  Paris. 

Paris,  July  3. 
My  Dear  N.: 

I  must  write  you  a  little  this  morning  to  wish  you 
Many  Happy  Returns  of  the  Day  and  health  to  enjoy 
them. 

Friday,  July  5. 

I  must  tell  you  now  about  the  charming  excursion 
we  made  the  other  day  to  "Robinson."  We  were  nine 
in  the  party,  consisting  of  Miss  Ellis  and  her  neice, 
Miss  Isabel  Tobin,  and  her  brother,  Mr.  Harris,  of  Bos- 
ton, two  Miss  Raymonds,  of  New  York,  Miss  Homer,  of 
Boston,  Mrs.  Amos  and  myself.  We  went  by  rail  to 
Seeaux,  where  there  is  a  beautiful  chateau  and  park  be- 
longing to  the  Due  de  Penthievre.  There  were  no  carriages 
ready  so  we  walked  to  Robinson,  a  matter  of  half  a  mile. 
It.  is  a  village  of  but  only  five  houses,  two  restaurants  with 
gardens  and  one  stable.  The  specialty  of  "Robinson"  is 
that  you  eat  in  a  tree;  the  trees  are  enormous  with  wide 


230  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

spreading  branches  and  in  the  branches  they  have  built 
rustic  arbours  with  thatched  roofs.  You  cannot  imagine 
how  pretty  they  are ;  a  winding  stair  of  rustic  work  winds 
round  the  trunk  and  leads  to  the  little  houses,  two  in  each 
tree.  Each  little  house  can  hold  from  twelve  to  twenty 
persons.  Robinson  being  on  a  hill,  when  one  is  near  the 
top  of  the  tree,  one  gets  the  most  far  reaching  beautiful 
view  you  can  possibly  imagine  and  the  freshest  air.  We 
had  a  delicious  dinner.  We  were  all  very  hungry  and  all 
enjoyed  the  view  and  the  air.  There  is  a  great  valley 
stretching  away  to  the  horizon  and  directly  below  was  the 
park  I  spoke  of.  After  dinner  we  got  on  donkeys  and  rode 
eight  miles  round  the  country.  We  saw  the  emplacements 
of  all  the  Prussian  batteries  and  the  walls  full  of  loop-holes, 
the  houses  and  villas  battered  to  pieces.  Also  the  chateau 
which  formed  the  Prussian  headquarters.  We  passed  fields 
of  strawberries  from  which  Paris  is  supplied.  The  peasants 
were  picking  them  and  gave  us  some  as  we  passed.  The 
fragrance  of  the  fruit  was  exqusite  as  the  men  and  women 
carried  them  by  in  baskets.  We  went  through  park  and 
forests  and  open  glades,  past  pretty  villas  and  stately  cha- 
teaux until  after  two  hours  and  more  we  reached  the  sta- 
tion at  Sceaux  and  took  the  train  for  Paris.  We  were  a 
cheerful  party  and  everything  was  so  pleasant  that  I  en- 
joyed the  day  exceedingly. 

Paris,  October  11. 
.  .  .  I  went  to  see  the  Doctor  yesterday;  it  was  a 
fortnight  I  had  not  been  to  him.  He  found  a  great  change 
for  the  better  in  me.  I  am  stronger,  have  a  better  colour, 
breathe  better,  and  he  says  if  I  will  be  very  careful  and 
have  a  good  winter  in  Italy  he  thinks  I  will  be  quite  re- 
stored by  spring  and  my  lungs  probably  healed,  though  of 
course  I  may  require  to  pass  my  winters  in  mild  climates 
for  several  years.  I  felt  cheered  by  what  he  told  me.  I 
can  walk  a  mile  or  two  every  day  and  though  I  may  be 
tired  I  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  and  sleep  well.     I  am  in 


LETTERS  231 

1872 
Age   30 

better  spirits  and  have  hardly  any  ache  in  my  bones.  I 
am  less  thin  and  the  increasing  doses  of  cod-liver  oil  are 
benefiting  me. 

.  .  .  I  had  a  letter  from  Amelia  yesterday,  she  re- 
ports K.  as  exuberantly  happy  and  well.  I  think  I  told 
you  they  were  at  Chambord ;  they  will  probably  come  back 
next  week.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  get  my  little  daughter 
back,  and  yet  it  seems  a  shame  to  take  her  from  the  place 
where  she  is  most  well  and  happy.  I  am  hoping  that  Miss 
Greenough  will  go  to  Italy  with  me,  but  she  has  just  heard 
that  her  brother  is  coming  over  this  month  and  she  will 
probably  want  to  wait  and  see  him  longer  than  I  shall  dare 
to  wait  if  the  weather  continues  cold,  I  should  be  sorry 
to  lose  her  company  and  to  have  to  travel  alone.  ...  I 
went  yesterday  to  the  Louvre  gallerj^,  it  was  two  years 
since  I  had  been  there  owing  to  the  war  and  to  my  visit 
home.  I  wandered  in,  having  a  spare  hour,  and  at  once 
the  old  delight  took  possession  of  me.  I  devoured  eagerly 
my  favourite  pictures,  Rembrandts,  Velasquez,  Pontormos, 
Van  Dykes,  Leonardo  da  Vincis  and  a  host  of  others.  I 
could  not  tear  myself  away  and  came  home  at  last  radiant 
with  the  pleasure  I  had  had.  It  was  a  fore-taste  of  the 
delight  I  shall  experience  in  Rome  again;  I  do  so  love 
pictures  and  statues,  as  well  as  all  natural  beauty,  that  I 
should  feel  starved  if  deprived  of  them  a  long  time.  I  re- 
member at  Chambord,  I  never  could  sufficiently  feast  my 
eyes  on  the  beauty  there.  .  .  .  I  sat  half  an  hour  yes- 
terday before  my  favourite  statue  of  the  Venus  Victrix; 
she  is  so  noble,  so  pure,  so  beautiful. 

Paris,  October  24. 

I  am  expecting  K.  tomorrow.  I  thought  to  have  had 
her  yesterday,  but  the  horses  at  Chambord  were  engaged 
for  several  days  and  she  could  not  have  them  to  bring  her 
to  the  station  till  Friday.  They  could  have  got  other  con- 
veyances I  know,  but  they  are  glad  of  any  excuse  that 


232  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

gives  them  a  day  or  two  more  at  Chambord.  K.  is  so 
happy  there  that  I  cannot  grudge  her  an  extra  day  in  her 
paradise ;  still  I  long  to  have  her  with  me  again  and  shall 
never  let  her  leave  me  any  more.  I  shall  have  to  improve 
her  English  which  has  probably  got  rusty  from  disuse  dur- 
ing this  last  month;  she  often  talks  of  you  all  and  loves 
her  grand-parents.  We  expect  to  leave  the  end  of  next 
week ;  I  should  have  felt  more  hurried  to  go  had  the  weath- 
er been  cold,  but  it  is  still  so  mild  that  the  trees  are  green 
and  as  fresh  as  if  it  were  August.  Tuesday  was  so  perfect 
a  day,  so  warm  and  bright  with  a  soft  languid  air  that  I 
accepted  the  invitation  of  a  friend  to  drive  with  her  and 
so  keenly  enjoyed  it  that  it  used  up  all  my  nervous 
strength.  I  find  that  keen  enjoyment,  and  intense  appre- 
ciation of  anything  tires  me  very  much.  You  advise  me 
not  to  go  to  Rome,  but  I  think  I  cannot  give  it  up.  I  shall 
not  go  sight-seeing  knowing  it  so  well,  and  shall  chiefly 
drive  on  the  Campagna  I  love  so  much.  Rome  lies  nearest 
my  heart  after  home,  and  I  must  see  it  this  winter  for  I 
may  not  see  it  again  for  long  years,  perhaps  never.  I  shall 
enjoy  taking  K.  and  we  shall  not  reach  there  till  January 
when,  as  you  know,  the  spring  begins.  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
you  had  sold  the  lot  opposite  to  Hill  Home.  ...  I 
have  thought  lately  that  I  should  like  to  build  myself  a 
little  cottage  when  I  come  home  under  those  old  trees,  but, 
of  course,  there  are  plenty  of  other  places.  I  might  like 
the  hill  better  after  all.  I  have  a  foolish  but  unconquerable 
dislike  to  near  neighbours,  and  if  ever  I  have  a  home  I  shall 
like  a  good  bit  of  space  around  me.  I  am  interested  in  what 
you  tell  me  of  your  grapes.  If  there  are  any  Italian  varie- 
ties you  would  like,  let  me  know  as  I  can  obtain  them  for 
you  in  Italy.  I  have  always  thought  the  Pizzicatella  grape 
would  keep  excellently  through  the  winter;  it  is  so  firm 
and  solid ;  it  is  that  long,  pointed  white  grape  that  looks  like 
a  horn.    I  think  you  ate  it  in  Florence. 


LETTEES  233 

1872 
Age   30 

Paris,  October  25. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  feel  so  disappointed  this  morning  that  I  can  hardly 
write  for  I  expected  K.  today  and  a  letter  from  Amelia 
just  received  tells  me  that  they  cannot  come,  for  the  Loire 
is  so  high  that  the  roads  are  overflowed  and  they  cannot 
cross  the  river  to  reach  the  station.  If  the  water  subsides 
they  may  come  tomorrow,  but  I  fear  as  it  rained  all  night 
that  the  river  will  be  higher  instead  of  lower.  I  am  very 
much  disappointed  but  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  to  do 
but  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience.  These  are  the  things 
that  cannot  be  foreseen,  but  I  regret  the  delay,  for  I  long 
to  get  away.  I  am  pretty  well  today  and  I  think  I  gain 
daily.  My  old  cook  hardly  "knew  me  yesterday,  I  had 
changed  so  in  six  weeks.  When  she  last  saw  me  I  was  noth- 
ing but  a  shadow;  the  Doctor  is  well  satisfied  with  my 
progress,  and  says  that  with  care  I  shall  be  all  right  by 
spring. 

Bordighera,  November  19. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

Yesterday  was  a  bright  day  for  me,  on  account  of  the 
receipt  of  two  letters  from  home.  I  must  tell  you  now  of 
our  doings  here.  I  have  decided  to  stay  some  weeks  instead 
of  going  to  San  Remo.  I  drove  there  yesterday  and  spent 
the  afternoon  looking  about,  but  found  the  hotels  full  and 
rooms  only  to  be  had  two  or  three  weeks  hence.  The  place 
has  not  improved  since  we  saw  it,  then  it  was  a  quiet, 
sunny,  pretty  place,  now  hotels  and  villas  have  sprung  up 
everywhere,  roads  are  being  cut,  houses  built  and  mud  and 
confusion  are  everywhere  in  consequence.  The  only  attrac- 
tive part  I  saw  was  the  old  town,  through  whose  quiet,  pic- 
turesque streets  we  wandered.  The  natives  go  about  their 
business  as  they  used  to  do,  and  seem  to  look  down  upon 
the  foreigners  swarming  in  their  town;  scorning  even  to 
make  money  out  of  them.  This  is  the  fact,  strange  as  it 
may  appear.     The  San  Remo-ite  actually  will  not  profit 


234  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

by  the  stranger  within  his  gates  and  leaves  all  intercourse 
with  them  to  new  trades-people  who  have  come  there  to 
open  shops.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  liked  our 
little  simple  Bordighera  better  than  the  larger  San  Remo. 
Here  the  roads  and  walks  are  dry  as  can  be  and  we  are  a 
little  company  in  this  hotel  instead  of  among  a  crowd  of 
card-playing  Americans  and  smoking  Germans  which 
would  have  been  our  lot  at  San  Remo. 

I  have  found  friends  here,  old  and  dear  Italian 
friends;  they  are  settled  in  a  pretty  old  house  among 
groves  of  palms,  orange  and  lemon  trees  and  I  get 
a  hearty  welcome  when  I  run  in  to  see  them.  They  stayed 
a  day  or  two  at  the  hotel  until  their  little  villa  was  ready. 
They  are  M.  and  Madame  Pagella.  She  is  a  daughter 
of  my  old  friend,  the  Contessa  Mariscotti  in  Rome;  she 
was  first  married  to  a  Brazilian  named  Suarez,  and  after- 
wards to  M.  Pagella.  They  were  living  in  Paris  when  I 
first  went  there  and  used  to  come  to  see  me  and  take  me 
to  drive.  Mr.  P.  is  ill  and  they  have  come  here  for  the 
winter,  where  he  has  some  property.  They  are  the  bright- 
est, cheeriest  people  and  it  does  me  good  to  see  them.  There 
is  also  in  the  hotel  a  pleasant  Irish  family  and  soon  an 
English  family  will  be  here  whom  I  knew  in  Paris.  There 
is  also  a  Miss  Crawford,  English,  a  gentle,  intelligent  lady 
who  is  very  companionable.  Last  evening  Miss  E.  who 
came  with  me  from  Paris  to  Nice  stopped  here  with  her 
friends.  Miss  Greenough  in  her  letter  recently  received 
gives  me  particulars  of  the  Boston  fire.  The  weather  is 
still  mild,  though  cloudy.  Sunday  was  lovely  and  we 
walked  to  the  Pagella 's,  the  air  and  the  views  were  ex- 
quisite. The  foot-hills  were  so  green,  so  fresh  and  over 
their  tops  far  away  rose  one  snow  covered  peak  glittering 
like  crystal  in  the  sun;  the  contrast  was  striking  and  far 
off  snow  like  that  does  not  make  one  shiver  when  one  is 
bathed  in  warm  sunshine  with  daisies  and  violets  under  foot 
and  palms,  orange  and  lemon  trees  waving  about  your  head. 
We  picked  up  lemons  and  figs  from  the  ground  along  the 


LETTEES  235 

1872 
Age    30 

public  road  quite  ripe  and  delicious;  the  oranges  will  not 
be  ripe  till  January.  The  walks  among  the  olive  groves  are 
lovely  and  from  every  point  one  has  such  fine  views;  one 
gets  a  better  view  of  the  coast  from  here  than  at  San 
Remo.  Mentone,  Monaco,  Roccabruna,  Ventimiglia  one 
can  see  and  then  far  away  to  the  coast  of  France,  and  the 
hills  of  gay  Provence.  The  Provengal  mountains  are  so 
faint  against  the  sky  that  one  mistakes  them  for  clouds. 
The  village  of  Bordighera  is  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk 
from  the  hotel,  and  is  as  picturesque  as  Italian  towns  usu- 
ally are.  The  walls  and  towers  and  old  gateways  prepare 
one  for  the  quaint  steep  streets  and  picturesque  houses  with- 
in. Behind  our  hotel  rises  an  olive  covered  slope  crowned 
with  an  old  stone  tower ;  behind  it  is  another  hill  and  then 
still  another  till  they  reach  the  snow  covered  peaks  far 
away.  Here  and  there  a  little  village  clings  to  the  hillside 
so  much  the  color  of  the  mountain  that  one  only  discovers 
its  existence  when  the  sun  shines  on  its  church  tower  and 
glitters  on  its  vanes.  Another  hotel  is  being  built  here  but  I 
think  Bordighera  will  always  be  a  place  more  for  quiet  vil- 
las than  for  hotels.  Land  is  being  bought  for  villas  and  I 
daresay  in  five  years  or  less  the  price  of  land  will  be  much 
increased.  Now  one  can  have  a  pretty  little  piece  of  prop- 
erty for  a  few  hundred  dollars.  I  should  love  to  buy  the 
spot  near  the  old  stone  tower  to  which  I  have  taken  a  great 
fancy.  It  has  a  spring  of  pure  water  upon  it  that  alone  is 
worth  a  good  price.  I  hear  that  land  is  worth  about  four 
francs  the  square  metre !  The  sun  is  so  hot  on  me  as  I  write 
that  I  have  moved  all  around  my  room  to  escape  it  and  now 
I  am  in  the  shade  and  my  feet  are  roasting  in  the  sun  as 
they  would  before  a  hot  fire.  I  wish  you  were  here  with  me 
to  share  the  warmth,  to  take  a  whiff  of  perfume  from  my 
roses  and  glance  out  of  the  window  at  the  orange,  lemon 
and  palm  trees  and  further  to  the  blue  sea,  shimmering  in 
the  sunlight  with  white  feluccas  and  sloops  gliding  over 
it.  Sometimes  the  Genoa  steamer  is  to  be  seen  leaving  a 
long  trail  of  smoke  against  the  blue  sky  on  her  swift  way 


236  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

towards  Nice  and  Marseilles.  A  train  passes  occasionally 
but  it  seems  to  be  aware  of  its  incongruity  in  the  landscape 
and  makes  no  noise,  but  goes  slowly  as  if  it  liked  to  linger 
in  sunny  Italy  rather  than  hurry  on  to  France.  I  often 
used  to  wonder  why  people  lived  in  Labrador  and  New- 
foundland when  they  could  find  work  and  homes  in  Penn- 
sylvania. Now  I  wonder  why  any  one  lives  there  and  en- 
dures its  winter  snows  and  cold  blasts  when  land  is  cheap 
and  smiling  hills  and  blue  skies  await  them  in  Italy  all  the 
year  round !  Why  not  live  here  and  forget  that  snows  and 
dreary  blasts  exist?  But  a  tug  at  my  heart  recalls  me 
and  I  remember  that  every  one  loves  home  best,  be  it 
among  Arctic  snows  or  under  sunny  Italian  skies.  It  is 
home  and  that  means  and  explains  everything,  only  I 
would  like  to  transport  Meadville  and  its  lovely  valley  to 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  every  winter, 

Sunday,  November  27. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  have  just  come  in  from  a  walk  and  saw  peas  in  full 
blossom  and  gardens  being  made.  An  old  gentleman  told 
me  the  other  day — he  is  a  geologist  and  was  showing  me 
the  formation  of  the  soil  here — that  there  is  a  rich  fine 
loam  like  powder  for  about  three  yards;  down  under  that 
lies  a  great  depth  of  gravel  and  sand.  It  is  ideal  garden 
soil.  I  should  think  one  could  have  fresh  vegetables  and 
strawberries  all  the  year  round,  for  it  never  freezes.  We 
have  grapes  and  pears  in  abundance,  and  fresh  figs  every 
day;  also  dried  ones  which  are  the  best  I  ever  ate.  Every 
one  was  sitting  out  of  doors  today  it  was  so  warm.  K. 
likes  ''her  country"  as  she  calls  it,  very  much;  no  won- 
der, for  she  can  be  out  all  day  in  a  nice  garden  which 
she  thinks  is  infinitely  preferable  to  one  room  on  the  fifth 
floor  of  Miss  Ellis's  pension.  She  is  beginning  to  speak 
English  very  well.  I  am  about  the  same  in  health  I  think, 
perhaps  a  little  stronger;  my  chest  is  better  and  I  go  on 
bravely  with  cod-liver  oil.     Sometimes  I  am  allowed  to 


LETTERS  237 

1872 
Age  30 

substitute  a  big  cup  of  cream,  which  is  infinitely  more 
palatable.  There  was  a  lovely  effect  of  light  today;  the 
clouds  still  darkened  us  here,  but  away  in  France  the  sun 
lighted  up  the  mountains,  Monaco  and  Mentone  shone  white 
in  the  sunshine,  soon  Ventimigilia  caught  the  rays  and  as 
the  clouds  broke  away  all  the  sea  and  we  here  were  bathed 
in  glory.  At  present  the  sun  streams  into  my  room  and  as 
usual  I  have  to  get  into  the  shade  and  leave  only  my  feet 
in  its  warmth.  K.  came  up  two  mornings  ago  with  her 
hands  full  of  rosebuds;  the  proprietor  is  fond  of  her,  and 
knowing  her  name  was  Katherine  gave  her  a  bouquet  for 
her  fete  day,  this  being  St.  Katherine 's  day.  Of  course  in 
Catholic  countries  the  Saint's  day  is  celebrated  instead  of 
the  birthday.  I  remember  once  being  amazed  to  receive 
baskets  upon  baskets  of  flowers  in  Rome  from  friends  and 
discovered  it  was  St.  Emilia's  day  and  they  considered  it 
my  fete  day.  It  wasn't  any  the  less  pleasant  for  being  un- 
expected, and  I  remember  that  one  lady  sent  me  a  branch 
of  japonicas  with  ten  blooms  and  ever  so  many  buds  on  it ; 
that  was  the  Mother  of  Mrs.  P.,  the  friend  I  found  here. 
How  I  wish  you  and  Mother  and  A.  could  take  a  walk  with 
me  this  morning;  I  should  love  to  show  you  that  loveliest 
of  views,  the  cape  of  Bordighera  on  one  side  with  its 
fringe  of  palms  against  the  blue  sky,  then  the  long  stretch 
of  the  bay  curving  round  to  Ventimiglia  with  its  many 
towers  and  frowning  cliff,  Mentone,  white  and  gay,  below, 
and  Monaco  jutting  out  into  the  sea.  Again  the  long  line 
of  the  French  coast  curving  away  in  waving  lines  to  Nice ; 
farthest  of  all  Antibes,  a  mere  line  above  the  sea.  The 
whole  crowned  far  off  by  the  sunny  hills  and  snow  covered 
glittering  peaks.  Were  you  here  I  would  take  you  through 
orange  and  lemon  groves,  under  olive  trees  with  their 
gnarled  old  trunks  and  you  should  pick  up  lemons  as 
yellow  as  gold,  figs  luscious  and  sweet  and  the  few  ripe 
oranges  we  could  find  along  the  lanes  which  we  might  freely 
take  for  ourselves  as  whatever  falls  over  the  hedge  into 
the  road  is  free  to  the  passer-by.    As  to  flowers  you  might 


238  LETTERS 

1872 
Age  30 

gather  crimson  tipped  daisies,  wild  roses  and  violets.  No 
need  of  a  gi-eat-coat  and  Mother  and  A.  might  wear  straw 
hats  and  light  shawls  and  bring  their  sunshades  for  the 
sunny  spots.  But,  alas,  alas,  there  is  many  a  weary  mile 
of  sea  and  land  between  you  and  me,  and  you  cannot  come 
warmly  as  I  may  urge  you.  Some  leisure  afternoon  though, 
take  "Doctor  Antonio"  and  read  it  for  an  hour;  then  go 
to  sleep  on  the  sofa  in  the  parlour  and  perhaps  in  your 
dreams  you  will  walk  with  me  and  see  the  beauty  of  sea 
and  sky  and  land  in  this  sunny  place.  Now  I  must  stop 
and  go  to  walk  for  I  cannot  resist  the  sunshine  any  more. 
K.  is  all  equipped  with  her  basket  on  her  arm  for  flowers 
and  pebbles. 

Sunday,  December  8. 
My  Dear  N. : 

I  was  glad  to  receive  your  letter  of  November  seven- 
teenth a  few  days  ago;  just  three  weeks  ago  this  Sunday 
afternoon  it  was  written.  I  wish  I  could  hope  today  you 
were  having  as  lovely  an  afternoon  in  Meadville  as  I  enjoy 
here ;  the  sun  blazes  into  my  room,  there  is  no  other  word 
for  it,  and  my  room  feels  like  a  pleasantly  heated  oven. 
K. 's  parrot  sits  basking  in  the  sunshine  and  often  pipes 
up  and  imitates  a  nightingale,  a  canary,  or  a  thrush,  a 
clucking  hen  or  anything  else  that  may  come  into  her 
pretty  green  head.  Just  now  a  hand-organ  is  playing  in 
the  garden  and  "Coquette"  as  she  is  called  is  trying  to 
imitate  that  with  indifferent  success.  She  has  a  wonder- 
ful ear  for  melody,  however,  and  sings  with  great  sweet- 
ness, which  is  very  unusual  in  a  parrot.  She  is  at  present 
perched  in  front  of  my  mirror  and  is  conversing  with  her 
own  image  in  the  glass;  she  amuses  us  very  much  and  is 
very  gentle  and  affectionate. 

December  15. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

.  ,  .  I  heard  this  morning  from  Miss  Clarke  who 
tells  me  she  saw  L.  and  told  him  I  was  coming  to  Rome. 


LETTERS  239 

1872 
Age    30 

Miss  Greenough  writes  me  she  is  in  the  apartment  A.  occu- 
pied in  Rome,  Number  75,  via  Capo  le  Case.  ...  I 
hear  prices  have  much  risen  in  Rome,  but  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  lodge  myself  modestly,  with  Amelia  to  do  the 
general  work  and  dinner  sent  in.  I  hope  to  reach  Rome 
about  the  middle  of  January  and  my  address  will  be  c|o 
Schmitt,  Nast  &  Co.,  34  Piazza  San  Luigi  dei  Francesi, 
Rome.  ...  I  saw  in  the  newspaper  the  other  day  a 
notice  of  the  railway  scandals  in  Meadville;  the  discovery 
that  Mr.  S.  had  been  stealing  from  the  receipts  of  the  road 
and  how  he  had  been  confronted  with  the  proofs  and  had 
resigned.  I  was  amazed  enough  to  see  "Meadville,  Pa." 
in  a  foreign  paper.  I  also  saw  yesterday  that  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel  had  been  burned. 

I  have  begun  to  take  Italian  lessons  as  I  want  to  rub 
up  my  Italian  I  should  like  to  speak  Italian  as  well  as 
French,  and  later  take  up  again  my  German,  neglected 
since  long  years.  K.  is  progressing  wonderfully  in  English 
and  would  be  able  to  converse  nicely  with  you  now. 

December  22. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  went  on  donkeys  the  other  day  to  Ventimiglia,  the 
afternoon  was  charming,  such  lovely  views  as  we  had.  I 
wanted  specially  to  see  an  old  church  there,  but  half  way 
up  the  narrow  street  leading  to  it,  my  donkey  refused  to 
go  a  step  farther.  I  coaxed  and  urged  and  the  man  in 
charge  applied  the  whip,  but  nothing  moved  the  animal ; 
then  two  men  dragged  at  the  head  and  a  third  man  pushed 
from  behind,  while  several  small  boys  volunteered  sharp 
smacks  with  their  hands,  but  the  donkey  would  not  budge, 
so  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  turn  its  obstinate  head 
and  go  homiC  crestfallen  without  seeing  the  object  of  my 
ride.  We  had  a  good  laugh  over  the  whole  affair.  I  might 
have  left  the  donkey  and  walked  to  the  church  but  the 
incline  was  too  steep  for  me  to  risk  it.  I  am  so  glad  to  hear 
you  have  continued  your  autobiography;  I  have  thought 


240  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

about  it  and  was  going  to  urge  you  to  finish  it.  You  kindly 
say  you  would  like  my  help  in  eliminating  what  ought  to 
be  left  out.  I  think  you  may  safely  leave  nothing  out,  that 
would  be  my  verdict  were  I  with  you ;  of  that  I  am  as  sure 
as  though  I  had  seen  it.  There  cannot  be  a  phrase  too 
much  for  me  at  least,  in  what  you  have  written  of  yourself. 
I  wish  you  would  have  it  printed  at  once  for  us  and  for 
your  friends.  I  so  much  wish  too  that  you  would  have 
Grandfather's  Autobiography  printed,  that  we  might  have 
it  in  more  durable  form  than  it  has  at  present.  It  might 
so  easily  happen  that  all  three  of  the  copies  now  existing 
came  to  harm.  How  would  it  be  to  print  his  and  yours 
together  in  a  volume  to  match  your  poems;  it  would  be 
most  interesting  for  us  and  for  your  grand-children  to 
have  the  two  together.  We  should  then  have  an  epitome 
of  family  history  extending  over  nearly  or  quite  a  century, 
and  if  any  of  your  children  attain  to  old  age  they  may 
like  to  continue  the  history  with  the  events  of  their  lives 
for  their  children.  I  used  to  think  I  would  do  this  for 
K.  as  I  then  thought  she  would  be  brought  up  far  from 
her  Mother 's  early  home,  and  I  wanted  she  should  know  the 
associations  I  treasured  with  that  home  and  my  recollec- 
tions of  it  and  of  the  older  homestead  at  Pomona.  Also 
what  I  saw  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  etc.  These  things 
may  have  an  interest  for  her  one  day  that  similar  remi- 
niscences of  past  times  and  events  have  for  me  now. 

I  suppose  we  are  to  have  a  very  elaborate  Christmas 
dinner;  for  I  saw  a  haunch  of  venison  brought  in  yes- 
terday and  hear  of  salmon  trout  to  come  from  the  Lake 
of  Geneva  and  of  a  roast  of  beef  weighing  thirty  pounds. 
At  Christmas  time  I  always  used  to  read  Washington  Irv- 
ing's  description  of  Christmas  in  England  in  the  '' Sketch 
Book."  Such  a  genial,  jovial  atmosphere  of  good  cheer 
emanates  from  that  sketch  that  it  puts  one  into  holiday 
humour.  Also,  the  "Christmas  at  Bracebridge  Hall." 
.  .  .  We  have  a  pleasant  Swiss  family  here  now;  also 
an  old  gentleman  travelling  with  an  invalid  son  who  has 


LETTERS  241 

1872 
Age   30 

a  strong  Scotch  accent  and  a  deal  of  Scotch  wit  and  hu- 
mour. He  has  courtly,  gallant  manners  and  proves  to  be 
the  Earl  of  Kintore,  a  well  known  Scotch  Peer.  He  reminds 
me  of  you,  which  first  attracted  me  to  him.  It  will  be  pleas- 
ant to  have  so  genial  a  person  to  enliven  our  Christmas 
dinner. 

December  29. 
My  Dear  Father: 

....  We  have  had  several  days  of  rain  lately,  but 
they  incommode  us  very  little,  as  the  moment  it  clears  the 
ground  dries.  This  morning  a  lady  gave  me  a  branch  of 
white  almond  blossoms  which  looks  as  though  it  were  al- 
ready Spring.  I  must  tell  you  of  our  Christmas.  K.  was 
as  happy  as  a  queen,  with  her  presents.  She  had  a  number 
from  people  in  the  hotel,  among  them  a  box  of  "marrons 
glaces " ;  she  tasted  one  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and 
declared  it  was  "delicieux."  .  .  .  Our  dinner  was  ex- 
cellent and  it  seemed  home-like  to  see  roast  turkey,  plum 
pudding  and  mince  pies.  We  all  tried  to  look  very  cheer- 
ful out  of  gratitude  to  our  host,  the  hotel  proprietor,  M. 
Lozeron,  who  had  done  his  best  to  give  us  a  treat.  I  fear 
though  it  would  have  been  a  dull  affair  but  for  my  jolly 
old  Scotch  neighbour,  Lord  Kintore.  He  was  so  full  of 
fun  and  good  humour  that  they  spread  along  the  table  and 
by  force  of  his  genial,  kindly  spirit,  he  gradually  enlivened 
every  soul  at  table.  When  every  one  had  put  off  his  or 
her  homesickness  and  had  begun  to  smile  and  chatter  he 
got  up  and  asked  us  to  fill  our  glasses  as  he  was  going  to 
propose  a  toast;  he  said  he  wished  to  drink  the  health  of 
M.  Lozeron,  and  to  thank  him  for  his  thoughtful  kindness 
in  preparing  such  a  nice  dinner  for  us,  and  also  to  thank 
the  waiters  for  their  attention.  He  went  on  to  speak  of  the 
kindness  and  attention  he  had  received  from  all  the  house- 
hold and  did  it  so  nicely  that  the  waiters  and  maids  looked 
immensely  pleased.  He  said  he  hoped  it  had  been  a  happy 
Christmas  for  all  of  us  and  he  was  sure  it  had  been  a 


242  LETTEES 

1872 
Age  30 

merry  one  to  the  children,  judging  from  their  faces,  as  he 
had  seen  them  in  the  garden.  He  knew  of  one  young  lady 
who  must  have  enjoyed  the  day  for,  as  she  occupied  the 
room  adjoining  his,  he  had  heard  her  in  the  morning  ex- 
claim most  feelingly  that  a  "marron  glace"  was  ^'deli- 
cieux, ' '  and  that  he  had  been  wishing  all  day  he  could  have 
one  himself !  Other  gentlemen  followed  with  speeches  and 
one  of  them  proposed  the  toast  of  Germany  in  compliment 
to  a  lonely  German  girl,  who  looked  up  so  surprised  and 
gratified.  The  son  of  Lord  Kintore,  a  poor  cripple,  pro- 
posed then  the  health  of  the  ladies  and  Mile.  Cortazzo,  as 
the  youngest  lady  present,  was  called  upon  to  respond.  She 
begged  off  on  account  of  her  want  of  fluency  in  English,  but 
she  very  composedly  bowed  to  Lord  Kintore  and  said  "  Je 
vais  vous  donner  des  marrons  glaces  Monsieur.  J'ai  tres 
bien  compris  ce  que  vous  avec  dis  de  moi."  She  then  lifted 
her  glass  and  said  ''A  votre  sante  Monsieur,"  and  after 
dinner  I  saw  her  giving  her  Christmas  nosegay  to  the 
young  cripple  and  marrons  glaces  to  Lord  Kintore.  She 
and  he  were  very  merry  over  them.  We  had  some  charm- 
ing music  in  the  evening  and  some  one  proposed  a  reel, 
but  there  were  not  enough  men  so  we  contented  ourselves 
with  listening  to  the  Scotch  reels,  Irish  jigs  and  hornpipes 
played  on  the  piano. 

I  got  some  roses  and  Parma  violets  for  two  sick  ladies 
in  the  house;  one  a  Polish  lady  who  is  too  weak  to  leave 
her  room.  I  had  not  ventured  to  call  on  her  before,  but 
armed  with  my  flowers  I  knocked  at  her  door  and  sat  an 
hour  with  her.  She  was  so  gentle  and  lovely;  she  speaks 
no  English  and  little  French  and  asked  so  wistfully  if  I 
could  not  speak  German  that  I  did  my  best  to  form  a  few 
phrases,  but  I  couldn't  get  on  very  well,  so  her  companion 
— the  German  girl — who  speaks  French,  interpreted  for 
us.  This  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you  except  that  today  we  saw 
Corsica  very  plainly,  and  that  I  am  quite  well.     .     .     . 

How  I  roused  you  up  by  my  admiration  of  the  Eiviera ; 
your  description  of  the  winter  morning  at  home  brought 


LETTERS  243 

1872 
Age    30 

it  vividly  before  my  mind 's  eye.    I  agree  with  you  that  all 
the  beauty  on  earth  is  not  monopolized  by  this  Riviera ;  no 
place  can  ever  be  dearer  to  me  than  home  and  I  defy  any 
one  to  show  a  lovelier  view  than  the  Meadville  valley  pre- 
sents in   Summer,   but   I   cannot   agree  with   your   ''two 
ladies"  that  winter  is  preferable  to  summer.     Our  physi- 
cal sensations  affect  our  ideas  of  beauty  sometimes,  and  I 
am  sure  they  influence  our  tastes.    I  remember  as  a  child 
that  I  enjoyed  the  winter  as  much  as  the  summer,  and 
found  a  thousand  beauties  in  it,  but  since  I  have  had  such 
bad  health  and  have  suffered  from  the  consequences  of  cold 
I  can  scarcely  bear  to  think  of  the  snow;  it  makes  me 
shudder  to  look  at  it.     However,  my  pleasantest  recollec- 
tions of  home  in  years  past  are  connected  with  winter, 
but  always  with  our  cosy  interior  our  warm,  well  lighted 
parlour,  with  the  family  circle,  the  books,  the  pictures,  the 
cheery  conversation  and  the  animated  discussions.     Never 
with  the  cold  dreary  outside  that  I  never  could  enjoy.     A 
thousand  pictures  stand  before  my  eyes  of  those  winter 
evenings,  of  a  basket  of  kittens  that  I  used  to  bring  up  to 
the  parlour,  the  journeys  I  used  to  make  to  the  dining 
room  and  office  for  atlases  and  encyclopedias  till  I  had  a 
pile  of  them  about  me ;  of  Mother  knitting  stockings  for 
A.  and  G.,  and  of  our  games  last  winter  with  K.     But  I 
think  one  must  be  healthy  and  strong  to  enjoy  the  frosty 
biting  air  of  a  winter's  day,  and  if  I  ever  could  be  so 
again  I  should  enjoy  the  winter,  too;  but  as  it  is,  I  like 
better  to  bask  in  this  Ligurian  sunshine  and  wander  among 
the  olive  groves  and  pick  violets  in  December.     .     .     .     An- 
other reason  that  I  could  never  admire  much  a  snowy  land- 
scape, even  when  viewed  from  a  warm  interior,  is  that  I  am 
so  fond  of  colour.    I  believe  this  has  something  to  do  with 
it.     I  never  could  admire  statuary  as  I  enjoy  paintings, 
because  of  the  absence  of  colour  in  the  former.     My  eye 
dwells  so  willingly  on  gorgeous  colours  and  brilliant  hues, 
and  a  snowy  peak  is  only  beautiful  to  me  when  contrasted 
with  gi^een  hills  and  blue  skies,    Now  I  must  stop  my  tire- 


244  LETTERS 

1873 
Age  31 

some  chatter  and  wish  you  all  a  Happy  New  Year  and  send 
you  much  love. 

Bordighera,  January  19,  1873. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  suppose  this  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  you  from 
here.  I  expect  to  leave  now  in  a  few  days  and  go  with 
Aunt  F.  and  family  as  far  as  Genoa,  perhaps  as  far  as 
Leghorn,  then  they  go  to  Florence  and  I  to  Rome.  We 
shall  probably  stay  a  few  days  in  Genoa;  the  railway  is 
open  now  from  there  to  Sestri,  which  is  more  than  half  way 
to  Spezzia  and  thence  one  goes  on  by  diligence.    As  I  write 

' '  The  billows  are  rolling  in, 
Hungry  and  brown", 

there  having  been  a  high  wind  during  the  night.  The 
sun  streams  through  rifts  in  the  clouds  occasionally,  leav- 
ing a  long  train  of  gleaming  light  over  the  tossing  waves. 
It  produces  a  singular  and  startling  effect. 

Pisa,  January  31. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  send  you  just  a  line  from  here  to  let  you  know  that 
we  have  got  so  far  on  our  journey.  We  left  Bordighera 
on  Saturday  in  the  early  morning,  hardly  expecting  to 
reach  farther  than  Savona  by  night,  but  by  dint  of  push- 
ing on  we  got  through  to  Genoa.  We  had  a  lovely  drive 
of  four  hours  between  Savona  and  Voltri  as  the  railway 
was  broken  in  several  places.  We  could  see  the  breaks 
from  the  carriage  road  and  they  seemed  to  be  in  process 
of  mending  by  a  few  boj^s  from  seven  to  fifteen  years,  with 
small  hand  baskets  that  might  hold  a  peck  of  sand.  I  doubt 
if  the  repairing  is  finished  before  the  end  of  the  year! 
We  went  to  the  Hotel  de  Genes  at  Genoa  which  Aunt  F. 
had  stayed  at  before,  and  we  remained  four  days  as  we 
all  wanted  to  see  something  of  the  city  and  its  palaces. 
I  enjoyed  the  paintings  and  the  palaces  as  far  as  I  was 


LETTEES  245 

1873 
Age   31 

able  to.  The  journey  from  Genoa  here  yesterday  was  very 
hard  on  me  so  that  I  have  stayed  in  the  house  to  rest 
and  have  not  attempted  to  see  anything.  Tomorrow  we 
go  to  Rome,  via  Leghorn  and  Florence. 

Rome,  February  11. 
My  Dear  Father :  Via  della  Vite. 

It  is  not  a  week  since  I  wrote  you  but  as  I  wrote  out 
of  time  last  week  I  send  this  note  on  the  proper  day  to 
get  right  again.  I  have  not  much  to  tell  you,  as  I  have 
done  nothing  but  rest  since  I  reached  here.  The  journey 
from  Bordighera  was  terrible ;  I  certainly  am  utterly  unfit 
for  travelling;  however,  I  suppose  I  shall  get  over  it  in 
time.  L.  has  been  kindness  itself  and  comes  almost  every 
day  with  a  book  or  some  photographs  to  cheer  and  amuse 
me,  G.  also  came  to  see  me  yesterday;  Miss  Clarke  is 
very  kind  and  so  is  Miss  Greenough.  I  am  very  grateful 
that  my  friends  are  so  kind  and  attentive.  We  have  taken 
up  our  usual  Roman  life  and  drive  out  every  afternoon. 
We  lately  went  to  the  Coliseum,  but  it  looked  as  forlorn 
as  such  a  magnificent  thing  can  look,  for  it  still  shows 
the  effects  of  the  cleaning  the  Italian  Government  has  given 
it.  A  little  moss  and  grass  has  grown,  but  it  lacks  sadly 
that  wealth  of  vegetation  that  used  to  drape  its  walls  with 
vines  and  flowers ;  and  one  misses  the  shrubs  and  trees  that 
grew  from  the  interstices  of  the  stones.  We  have  settled 
comfortably  into  our  little  apartment,  though  I  miss  the 
sun  sadly.  We  shall  have  it  as  the  season  goes  on,  but 
for  the  present  we  only  get  a  gleam  of  it  at  noon.  The 
houses  opposite  are  so  high  that  though  we  face  the  south 
we  get  very  little.  Many  friends  inquire  for  you  all,  the 
Misses  S.,  Miss  Foley,  Lanciani,  and  Guerra.  Give  my 
love  to  Miss  E.  when  you  write;  she  judges  me  too  par- 
tially in  thinking  I  could  write  a  book  of  travels.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  try;  any  way  Italy  has  been  too  much 
written  about.  When  I  go  to  Cuba,  Yucatan,  and  Mexico 
I  Avill  write  about  them,  for  that  will  be  something  new 


246  LETTERS  ' 

1873 
Age  31 

and  one  of  my  dreams  has  always  been  to  visit  Yucatan. 
The  other  day  Lanciani  took  me  to  see  all  the  excavations 
made  since  I  left  Rome;  all  the  improvements  of  the  new 
Government,  all  the  new  part  of  the  city  which  looks  like 
a  little  Paris.  We  went  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla  which 
have  been  fully  excavated ;  the  fine  mosiac  pavements  have 
been  laid  bare  and  many  statues  discovered.  It  is  very 
interesting  but  less  picturesque  than  it  was.  One  misses 
so  much  the  vines,  flowers,  shrubs,  etc.,  which  have  been 
removed.  I  espied,  however,  one  bunch  of  wall  flower 
nodding  over  an  arch  and  it  was  just  in  the  place  that 
you  ventured  upon  one  day  to  my  intense  fright.  It  was 
so  lovely  among  the  ruins  and  the  sun  was  so  warm  that 
I  sat  down  on  a  broken  pedestal  and  fell  into  a  long  reverie. 
The  years  seemed  to  fall  away  and  I  seemed  again  to  be 
with  you  all  and  A.  was  looking  about  for  bits  of  marble 
and  you  were  adventuring  over  broken  and  treacherous 
arches,  while  Mother  and  I  nervously  watched  you.  I  was 
finally  roused  by  Lanciani 's  return  very  penitent  at  hav- 
ing kept  me  so  long  and  I  found  I  had  been  dreaming  a 
half  hour  and  had  entirely  forgotten  my  kind  friend  who 
had  been  about  his  own  devices.  I  went  yesterday  to  see 
an  old  friend,  the  Baroness  de  Sartory,  who  lives  in  the 
palace  we  used  to  be  in ;  she  had  the  apartment  under  ours. 
She  fell  and  broke  her  hip  bone  a  year  ago  and  has  only 
been  able  to  walk  with  crutches  since;  she  cannot  stir  out 
of  two  rooms  and  she  said  had  she  known  I  was  looking 
for  an  apartment  she  would  gladly  have  given  me  the  un- 
used part  of  hers  in  order  to  have  me  near  her.  She  is 
such  a  lively  cheerful  old  lady,  notwithstanding  her  mis- 
fortune. When  I  lived  above  her  she  used  frequently  to 
spend  the  evening  with  me;  she  always  wore  a  crimson 
velvet  sacque  or  gown  over  a  black  skirt  and  was  invariably 
followed  by  a  black  cat,  and  four  kittens.  This  procession 
used  to  be  ushered  in  by  my  servant  Nanna  holding  a  tall 
Roman  lamp.  I  remember  the  effect  was  weird.  ...  I 
heard  today  of  the  death  of  an  old  friend;  the  Baroness 


LETTERS  247 

1873 
Age   31 

Zezza  at  Naples,  with  whom  I  used  often  to  dine.  She  was 
a  little,  stately  old  lady  of  the  old,  old  school,  with  such 
courteous  formal  manners  and  the  warmest  heart.  She 
was  full  of  anecdote  and  bubbling  over  with  wit  and 
humour;  I  remember  her  standing  and  curtseying  to  us 
three  times  as  we  bade  her  good-bye  the  last  time  we 
saw  her.  She  dressed  in  the  old  fashioned  way  and  looked 
as  though  she  had  stepped  from  the  frame  of  a  last  cen- 
tury portrait.  We  went  to  the  Pincio  today  for  a  little 
while;  the  Princess  Margherita  passed  us;  she  has  an  ami- 
able, pleasant  face  and  is  much  beloved.  When  the 
ex-King  of  Spain  Amadeus  returns  he  will  be  very  warmly 
welcomed,  for  he  is  liked  here  even  better  than  his  brother 
Humbert,  the  heir  to  the  throne.  My  parrot  has  struck  up 
a  friendship  with  a  parrot  across  the  way  and  it  is  funny 
to  hear  them  talk  to  each  other  and  scold  the  dogs  in  the 
street.  My  bird  never  screams  but  remonstrates  gently 
with  the  dog  and  if  he  barks  she  clucks  at  him  like  a  hen, 
not  having  many  words  at  her  command;  but  the  bird 
across  the  way  does  not  hesitate  to  call  the  dog  a  dog  and 
a  bad  one.  I  heard  my  bird  practicing  some  of  the  street 
cries  this  morning  and  I  do  not  doubt  she  will  soon  add 
to  her  repertory  the  names  of  everything  that  is  saleable 
in  the  streets  of  Rome. 

Rome,  February  24. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

Your  letter  of  January  31st  reached  me  at  the  same 
time  as  letters  from  Mrs.  Richards,  of  Boston,  and  from 
my  Savoyard  friend  Mme.  Charmoz  de  Bressan;  all  were 
most  welcome,  for  I  love  each  one  of  the  senders.  Mme. 
Charmoz  is  brilliant,  intelligent  and  gifted  in  every  way, 
and  has  seen  much  of  the  world.  As  to  Mrs.  Richards,  her 
heart  must  be  open  to  all  the  world;  I  only  knew  her  two 
or  three  weeks  yet  she  has  taken  the  trouble  to  write  me 
such  lovely  letters  and  seems  to  care  for  me  as  though  I 
had  known  her  for  years.    Now  let  me  give  you  the  week's 


248  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

chronicle  of  events.  I  went  last  Tuesday  evening  to  a 
small  party  at  Miss  Clarke's  which  I  much  enjoyed;  I  met 
several  old  friends,  Miss  Hosmer,  Miss  Crawford,  Miss 
Greenough  and  her  farmily  and  a  Mr.  Barnard  and  his 
family.  I  prudently  came  home  early  and  found  A.  had 
a  nice  fire,  a  warm  wrapper  and  slippers  and  a  glass  of 
wine  ready  for  me  before  I  went  to  bed,  so  that  I  woke 
up  next  morning  none  the  worse  for  my  outing.  On  Wed- 
nesday we  went  to  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  to  see  the  Car- 
nival ;  it  is  much  gayer  than  it  was  in  the  old  papal  days, 
almost  every  one  is  in  costume  and  the  variety  of  them  is 
endless.  One  of  the  funniest  groups  was  of  people  dressed 
as  geese,  they  went  about  opening  and  shutting  their  enor- 
mous mouths,  so  comically;  then  there  were  cavaliers, 
knights  in  armour  and  the  usual  cavalcades.  The  Princess 
Margherita  and  Prince  Arthur  of  England  took  part  heart- 
ily in  all  the  fun.  Today  and  tomorrow  are  the  last  days 
and  I  suppose  the  fun  will  be  fast  and  furious.  We  are 
beginning  to  have  more  sun  in  our  rooms  and  I  find  the 
benefit  of  it  as  well  as  that  I  get  from  being  out  in  the  fresh 
air  so  much.  We  drive  every  afternoon  and  I  begin  to  feel 
myself  again  and  almost  as  strong  as  I  was  at  Bordighera 
before  taking  that  dreadful  journey  that  almost  killed  me. 

Rome,  March  2. 
My  Dear  Father: 

.  .  .  Tuesday  evening  was  the  last  day  of  the  Car- 
nival and  we  went  to  the  end  of  our  street,  which  touches 
the  Corso  to  see  the  ''Moccoletti. "  The  whole  Corso  was 
lighted  with  Bengal  lights  and  was  filled  with  floats  and 
carriages  and  all  sorts  of  fantastic  conveyances ;  one  repre- 
sented a  ship  with  sailors  in  costume ;  another  a  tiny  Swiss 
chalet  filled  with  girls  and  boys  in  Swiss  peasant  costume ; 
another  was  filled  with  Scotch  people  in  their  national 
dress.  Every  one  had  his  little  taper;  the  people  in  the 
carriages  as  well  as  those  on  the  balconies  and  walking. 
And  the  game  among  them  all  was  to  keep  their  own  tapers 


LETTERS  249 

1873 

Age   31 

burning  while  they  tried  to  extinguish  their  neighbour's. 
As  every  one  was  doing  this,  the  person  who  kept  his  taper 
burning  was  lucky;  it  may  be  a  childish  game  but  it  is 
picturesque,  for  it  gives  occasion  for  a  thousand  graceful 
attitudes  as  the  tapers  are  waved  high  over  the  heads  of 
the  crowd  to  escape  the  bouquets  and  branches  with  which 
attempts  are  being  made  to  extinguish  them.  The  girls, 
especially,  as  they  shielded  their  tapers  with  their  hands, 
throwing  the  light  for  a  moment  more  strongly  on  their 
features  and  fantastic  dresses,  or  held  them  high  above 
their  heads,  or  stretched  them  defiantly  towards  a  passing 
carriage  were  very  graceful.  At  last  the  great  car  of 
"Pasquino"  passed;  the  figure  is  a  facsimile  of  the  muti- 
lated statue  which  the  Romans  for  centuries  have  called 
"Pasquino,"  on  the  pedestal  of  which  the  squibs,  com- 
plaints and  witticisms  of  the  people  were  posted.  This 
figure  preceded  by  a  troop  of  cavaliers  and  followed  by 
the  same  passed  down  the  Corso  to  the  Piazza  del  Popolo 
where  ''Pasquino"  is  burnt  or  buried,  or  disappears  some- 
how until  it  is  time  for  him  to  reappear  next  year.  There 
were  fireworks  but  I  did  not  stay  for  the  end.  On  Thurs- 
day I  went  with  Miss  Clarke  to  call  at  our  Embassy;  Mrs. 
Marsh  is  very  pleasant  and  Mr.  Marsh  most  cordial;  we 
went  later  to  Healy's  studio;  it  was  filled  with  portraits, 
the  originals  of  many  of  which  we  knew.  I  think  Healy 
succeeds  better  in  men's  portraits  than  in  women's.  .  .  . 
There  seems  to  be  great  trouble  in  Spain;  the  Republic 
does  not  succeed  there,  whereas  in  France  it  seems  to  be 
taking  root. 

March  17. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

.  .  .  The  first  page  of  this  letter  is  all  about  myself 
and  now  enough!  This  week  has  flown  so  fast  and  yet  I 
seem  to  have  accomplished  very  little;  the  principal  event 
of  the  week  was  the  earthquake.  About  nine  o'clock  one 
evening,  Miss  Greenough,  who  had  come  in  to  see  me,  and  I, 


250  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

were  talking,  when  I  saw  my  parrot  suddenly  begin  to 
fly  about  her  cage  and  scream  in  a  frightened  and  unusual 
way.  I  turned  to  see  what  could  have  wakened  and  fright- 
ened her  and  in  the  same  moment  we  felt  the  house  oscilate ; 
it  seemed  to  sway  to  and  fro  and  made  me  quite  dizzy. 
The  door  bell  began  to  ring,  the  clock  stopped  and  the  long 
bell  rope  swung  to  and  fro.  I  cried  out  that  it  must  be 
an  earthquake.  A.  went  to  the  door,  thinking  some  one 
was  ringing,  and  was  incredulous  about  its  being  an  earth- 
quake as  she  had  noticed  no  motion.  A  minute  later  how- 
ever, she  began  to  feel  a  sort  of  sea-sickness.  The  earth- 
quake lasted  about  fifteen  seconds  but  it  seemed  much 
longer.  I  cannot  imagine  why  my  watch  should  have 
stopped,  and  no  shaking  or  winding  would  make  it  go  for 
more  than  five  minutes.  I  was  going  to  take  it  to  the 
jeweler's  the  next  morning  thinking  the  spring  must  have 
broken,  when  suddenly  it  began  to  go  again  and  has  been 
perfectly  right  ever  since.  E.  H.  tells  me  in  her  letter 
that  they  felt  the  shock  very  forcibly  in  Florence.  Several 
people  have  been  made  quite  ill  by  it.  .  .  .  The  weath- 
er is  lovely  and  we  are  out  the  greater  part  of  each  day. 
We  go  in  the  morning  to  the  Acqua  Acetosa  to  drink  a 
glass  of  the  mineral  water ;  we  usually  do  some  errands  on 
our  way  back  and  then  after  our  noon  breakfast  we  start 
out  again  and  stay  in  the  sunshine  all  the  afternoon.  I 
believe  my  little  carriage  has  done  more  for  me  in  enabling 
me  to  be  out  all  the  day  without  fatigue  than  all  the  medi- 
cines I  have  taken.  Today  we  went  to  the  Villa  Doria  and 
brought  back  a  great  bunch  of  sweet  scented  violets  picked 
in  the  woods  there  where  we  spent  an  hour  and  a  half. 
.  .  .  I  do  not  find  things  very  much  higher  here  than 
they  used  to  be,  except  rents  which  are  dearer  than  Paris, 
and  that  not  only  for  foreigners  but  for  the  natives  as 
well.  I  suppose  this  arises  from  the  increase  of  popula- 
tion and  the  insuf^ciency  of  accommodations.  The  Grov- 
ernment  however  is  building  a  whole  new  quarter  between 
the  railway  station  and  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore  and  when  the 


,  LETTEES  251 

1873 
Ago    31 

new  houses  are  ready  the  rents  will  decline.  Hotels  are 
very  expensive,  but  housekeeping  is  no  more  so  than  when 
I  lived  here  before. 

Tuesday,  March  18. 

I  went  the  other  day  to  the  Doria  Gallery  just  to  see 
one  favourite  picture  there;  a  portrait  by  Velasquez.  I 
believe  I  am  more  fond  of  portraits  than  of  any  other  style 
of  painting  and  Velasquez  is  so  incomparable.  I  used  to 
sit  for  hours  before  his  portraits  in  the  Louvre. 

I  have  just  read  an  historical  novel  by  I  don't  know 
who,  which  seems  to  bring  before  you  vividly  the  person- 
ages of  the  age  it  describes.  It  is  called  "Rome  in  1500 
or  Caesar  Borgia."  It  interests  me  to  see  portraits  of  the 
characters  described.  Caesar  Borgia,  Cardinal  Bembo, 
Macchiavelli,  Pope  Alexander  Sixth,  etc.  .  .  .  One 
day  last  week  I  went  to  the  Capitol  where  Lanciani 
showed  me  the  collection  of  antiquities  recently  discovered 
and  not  yet  open  to  the  public.  There  are  four  fine  statues, 
some  jars,  vases  and  coins,  many  inscriptions  and  all  sorts 
of  household  utensils.  There  was  even  some  black  charred 
stuff  still  perfectly  showing  the  texture,  a  sort  of  wool 
material  which  was  found  in  a  bowl,  probably  it  had  been 
put  to  soak  in  water  and  was  thus  preserved  when  the 
house  burned  as  was  discovered  to  have  been  its  fate. 
There  was  one  beautiful  crystal  vase  set  in  bronze,  and 
perfectly  preserved.  Lanciani  is  so  enthusiastic  over  his 
treasures  and  has  such  deep  knowledge  of  them  that  it  is 
a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  listen  to  him.  On  Saturday 
I  am  going  to  a  lecture  by  Padre  Secchi  the  celebrated 
astronomer,  on  the  ''Sun";  I  am  so  glad  to  be  able  to 
hear  him,  he  is  so  wonderfully  learned. 

March  31. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  was  relieved  of  some  anxiety  by  receiving  your  letter 
of  March  seventh  two  days  ago.     It  was  a  fortnight  since 


252  LETTEES 

1873 

Age  31 

I  had  heard  from  home.  I  am  so  sorry  to  hear  you  have 
all  been  suffering  with  the  epizotic,  and  your  report  of 
the  family  in  general  was  not  cheering.  What  fearful 
cold  you  have  had,  while  here  it  was  as  warm  as  summer 
on  the  seventh  of  March.  Such  bitter  cold  frightens  me; 
when  shall  I  ever  get  strong  enough  to  stand  such  a  climate  ? 
Yesterday  we  had  a  little  Tramontana  breeze,  delightful  to 
some  people  but  causing  me  to  shiver  in  spite  of  the  sun- 
shine, and  driving  me  early  in  doors.  I  believe  I  should 
not  be  too  hot  in  the  desert  of  Sahara !  Heat  seems  to  be 
my  very  life  now.  I  do  wish  you  were  both  here ;  this  last 
month  has  been  so  delightful.  Every  day  the  Campagna 
grows  more  beautiful  and  Rome  more  attractive.  The 
peach  trees  are  all  in  bloom.  On  Tuesday  last  we  went  to 
G-rotta  Ferrata  and  Frascati  and  it  was  a  day  of  unmixed 
delight.  We  started  about  ten  o'clock  and  reached  Grotta 
Ferrata  at  noon;  the  Fair  there  was  nothing  much  to  see 
and  after  looking  at  some  frescoes  in  the  church  we  drove 
on  to  Frascati  which  I  had  never  visited  before.  We  had 
brought  our  lunch  with  us  and  we  ate  it  in  the  grounds 
of  a  lovely  villa  under  rugged  old  ilex  trees  shadowing  a 
terrace  from  which  there  is  the  most  incomparable  view 
over  the  vast  Campagna  to  Rome  and  beyond  to  the  Sabine 
hills  and  Soracte,  Such  wonderful  shadows  crept  over  the 
plains,  the  clouds  took  fantastic  and  castellated  shapes,  and 
merged  so  into  the  distant  hills  that  the  mountains  became 
unreal  and  cloud-like.  The  air  was  so  pure  and  bracing 
that  it  acted  like  champagne.  It  was  intoxicating.  It 
was  truly  a  day  for  which  to  be  thankful.  The  grounds  of 
the  villa  were  all  beautiful ;  there  were  avenues  of  ancient 
oaks  draped  in  ivy,  and  fountains  playing  at  the  end  of 
long  vistas,  one  beyond  the  other  up  the  hillside.  The 
sun  could  only  peep  here  and  there  through  the  dense 
foliage,  flecking  the  green  sward  with  golden  shafts  and 
streaks  of  light.  Great  blue  periwinkles  and  tangled  twin- 
ing and  creeping  vines  were  everywhere;  over  the  mossy 
fountains,  around  the  tree  trunks,  and  trailing  through  the 


LETTEES  253 

1873 
Age   31 

grass.  We  sat  for  several  hours  hardly  speaking,  just 
drinking  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  Today  we  have  been 
ecclesiastical;  we  have  been  presented  to  the  Pope.  A. 
wanted  much  to  see  him  so  I  asked  for  an  audience  and 
this  morning  it  was  granted  us.  We  were  with  about  fifty 
other  people.  Pius  IX  has  aged  very  much,  but  he  has 
not  lost  his  benevolent,  loving  countenance.  He  spoke  so 
lovingly  to  K.  saying  "My  sweet  little  one,  art  thou  well? 
God  bless  thee."  He  patted  her  cheek,  looked  at  her  a 
moment  and  then  said,  "Good  bye,  my  little  daughter." 
He  looked  back  at  her  often  as  he  passed  along  the  line 
of  people.  We  had  been  placed  at  the  end  of  the  room,  a 
little  apart.  It  was  quite  a  picture  for  a  moment  as  the 
Pope  with  his  attendant  Cardinals  and  several  Monsignori 
stopped  in  front  of  the  child,  and  she  dropped  on  one  knee 
as  she  saw  others  do  and  looked  up  into  the  faces  of  the 
group  with  such  wonder  in  her  eyes.     .     .     . 

All  the  people  you  knew  here  remember  you  with  as 
much  pleasure  as  you  remember  them;  every  one  asks 
for  you  so  warmly  and  kindly.  People  you  knew  slightly 
and  probably  do  not  remember  now.  Mr,  Angelini  for 
instance,  Cav.  Simonetti  and  Mr.  Diomedi.  I  read  recently 
the  account  of  the  Inauguration  at  Washington;  there 
seems  to  have  been  considerable  display,  and  it  forms  a 
striking  contrast  to  the  present  simplicity  of  European 
courts.  There  is  marked  simplicity  here  in  everything 
pertaining  to  the  rulers;  the  King  drives  out  in  a  plain 
little  one  horse  carriage,  with  his  coachman  in  black  livery, 
and  no  footman.  The  Prince  rides  or  drives  without  at- 
tendants and  might  be  remarked  only  by  his  great  sim- 
plicity and  his  familiar  way  of  talking  to  everybody.  I 
have  seen  no  sign  of  display  since  I  have  been  here. 

April  14. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Your  letter  of  March  twenty-fourth  just  received  was 
so  nice  and  long  that  after  I  had  read  it,  it  seemed  to  me 


254  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

almost  as  though  I  had  been  talking  to  you.  AVhat  blessed 
things  letters  are;  I  wish  you  were  sitting  with  me  this 
morning;  it  is  an  exquisite  day.  The  sun  is  streaming 
into  my  open  windows  and  my  parrot  hanging  in  a  flood 
of  sunshine  is  singing  gaily.  She  pours  a  flood  of  music 
from  her  little  throat,  and  her  song  is  so  gay  that  I  never 
tire  of  hearing  her.  When  I  call  her  she  comes  down  from 
her  perch  to  the  floor  of  the  cage,  flutters  her  wings  and 
wants  me  to  caress  her;  if  I  stroke  her,  she  spreads  her 
wings  and  utters  a  comfortable  little  sound  and  rubs  her 
beak  against  my  hand.     .     .     . 

I  note  you  are  likely  to  go  to  Washington  on  business; 
why  do  you  not  go  on  to  the  White  Sulphur  Springs'?  A 
visit  to  such  Springs  is  so  beneficial  at  this  season.  I  think 
so  often  of  our  trip  to  the  White  Sulphur  which  I  so  en- 
joyed; do  you  remember  what  walks  we  used  to  take?  I 
could  as  well  fly  as  take  such  walks  now.  ...  I  have 
been  re-reading  lately  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  a  French  edi- 
tion of  it,  and  I  should  like  to  travel  through  the  South 
some  day  to  study  its  present  condition  as  compared  with 
its  former  state.  What  was  the  recent  insurrection  in 
Louisiana?  I  saw  no  account  of  it  and  do  not  know  its 
cause.  Yesterday  was  Easter.  We  went  to  St.  Peter's  in 
the  morning  and  the  music  was  good,  but  the  ceremony 
very  simple  as  compared  with  the  old  times.  ...  I 
stay  at  home  so  much  in  the  evening  that  it  gives  me  leisure 
for  reading;  I  am  now  upon  Baron  de  Hubner's  "Sixtus 
the  Fifth, ' '  which  is  very  interesting.  Also,  ' '  Le  Tour  du 
Monde,"  which  is  an  annual  collection  of  extracts  from 
the  books  of  travel  published  during  the  year.  It  is  ex- 
ceedingly interesting.  I  have  finished  the  first  article 
which  is  an  account  of  Russia  collated  from  Hepworth 
Dixon's  book;  it  details  the  present  state  of  the  country 
politically  and  morally  and  describes  also  places  and  cus- 
toms. The  second  article  is  a  trip  through  southern  Peru 
in  search  of  quinine  trees,  Mr.  h.  has  a  well  selected  library 
and  keeps  me  supplied  with  books. 


LETTERS  255 

1873 
Age    31 

In  driving  through  the  via  Babuino  the  other  day  I 
was  startled  to  see  what  looked  like  my  own  portrait  in 
a  window,  only  it  was  in  peasant's  dress.  It  was  so  like 
me  that  the  next  day  I  went  to  see  it ;  I  had  said  nothing 
to  A.  and  K.  about  it,  but  as  we  stopped  before  the  window 
they  both  cried  out,  ''Why  it  is  exactly  like  you."  And 
it  really  is,  except  that  the  forehead  is  a  trifle  lower,  the 
rest  of  the  face  might  pass  perfectly  for  me.  The  eyes, 
nose,  mouth,  cheek  and  shape  of  the  head  are  as  like  me 
as  two  peas;  it  is  not  very  well  painted  but  it  is  pleasing 
on  account  of  the  colouring  and  costume.  I  suppose  I 
could  have  it  for  ten  or  twelve  dollars  but  do  not  care 
enough  about  it,  though  I  feel  curious  to  see  the  model 
from  whom  it  was  done;  it  might  be  a  case  of  "my 
double."  If  the  weather  continues  not  too  hot,  I  shall 
put  off  going  to  Albano;  it  would  be  really  too  cool  there 
and  heat  seems  to  revive  me  and  give  me  new  strength.  I 
feel  lately  that  I  am  gaining  a  good  deal. 

May  1. 

.  .  .  We  went  to  drive  outside  Porta  Pia  yesterday 
and  over  the  wall  of  a  villa  garden  we  saw  the  greatest 
profusion  of  Banksia  and  other  roses.  The  gardener  was 
clipping  all  the  overhanging  branches  to  clear  the  wall,  and 
as  great  sprays  of  roses  fell  into  the  street  A.  asked  for 
them  and  was  made  welcome  to  all  there  were,  which 
would  have  made  several  wagon  loads.  We  contented  our- 
selves with  what  we  could  carry  and  this  morning  my 
little  parlour  looks  like  a  garden;  great  bunches  of  pink 
and  white  roses  everywhere  and  long  branches  of  Banksia 
roses  trailing  over  the  mirror  and  dropping  from  tall 
vases.  Yesterday  we  had  a  fine  dish  of  green  peas  and 
today  we  have  strawberries.  We  went  lately  to  Villa  Wol- 
konsky;  I  believe  I  never  saw  so  many  roses  in  my  life; 
rose  vines  are  trained  from  one  support  to  another  and 
hang  in  great  festoons.  Such  perfume  and  gorgeous  colour. 
There  is  every  sort  of  rose  there  from  the  tiny  Banksia 


256  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

and  shilling  rose  to  the  black  Tuscany  and  the  yellow 
and  cabbage  rose.  It  is  just  such  a  garden  as  pleases 
me,  quite  in  a  state  of  nature  with  no  formal  prim  beds 
and  all  the  flowers  old  fashioned  ones,  roses,  tall  iris,  white 
garden  lilies,  tulips,  pansies  and  lilacs.  The  views  through 
the  arches  of  the  old  acqueduct  are  so  beautiful,  each 
crumbling  arch  draped  in  heavy  wreaths  of  ivy  and 
through  this  lovely  frame  views  of  the  Alban  mountains 
and  the  Campagna,  Have  you  ever  remarked  hoAv  much 
lovelier  any  landscape,  any  view,  looks  when  you  can 
frame  it  in  with  green  branches  or  any  natural  limits?  I 
remember  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  at  the  White  Sul- 
phur Springs  finding  a  small  natural  frame  of  pine  boughs 
for  the  view  off  toward  the  Blue  Sulphur  and  how  beauti- 
ful it  was.  I  am  going  tomorrow  v/ith  Miss  Clarke  to  the 
Vatican;  she  wants  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  bronze 
"pigna";  I  doubt  if  they  allow  her  to  enter  the  gardens 
but  she  may  be  able  to  sketch  it  from  one  of  the  gallery 
windows.  I  am  going  this  afternoon  to  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars.  I  have  not  been  there  yet  and  they  tell  me  much 
has  been  excavated  since  I  left  Rome.  I  also  want  to  see 
that  garden  near  the  Corsini  palace  where  you  used  to 
like  to  go;  a  sort  of  botanical  garden  where  there  were 
hot  houses  and  an  old  flight  of  stone  steps  bordered  with 
tall  cypress  trees.  I  used  to  like  the  spot  very  much  and 
have  not  been  there  since  I  came  back.  I  am  also  going 
today  to  call  on  Mme.  von  Hoffman  who  was  Miss  Ward, 
her  husband.  Baron  von  Hoffman,  was  formerly  a  banker 
in  New  York.  Also  on  Mrs.  Carson,  a  very  charming 
woman  and  daughter  of  Judge  Pettigrew,  of  South  Caro- 
lina. I  had  letters  this  week  from  two  Bordighera  friends, 
one  of  whom  is  now  in  Mentone  and  the  other  my  good 
friend  Mme.  Charmoz,  who  is  soon  going  to  her  home  at 
Thonon,  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  where  she  invites  me  to 
visit  her. 


LETTERS  257 

1873 
Age   31 

May  19,  1873. 

.  .  .  I  think  I  shall  leave  here  a  week  from  tomorrow 
for  Florence.  There  is  a  great  fete  here  the  second  day 
of  June,  the  "Statuto"  or  Constitution  answering  to  our 
Fourth  of  July,  and  my  friends  urge  me  to  wait  for  it, 
but  I  doubt  if  I  do.  There  will  be  fireworks  and  a  review 
of  troops  by  the  King,  and  Prince  Amadeus,  Ex-King  of 
Spain;  the  Empress  of  Russia  will  be  here,  also.  I  paid 
a  visit  lately  to  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars  and  saw  the  many 
excavations  made  since  I  left  Rome;  in  some  rooms  that 
have  been  discovered  there  are  frescoes  that  have  retained 
their  brilliant  colour  as  perfectly  as  though  painted  yester- 
day. One  has  no  chance  now-a-days  of  picking  up  bits 
of  marble  as  we  used  to  do,  the  Italian  Government  ex- 
ercises great  care  over  all  finds.  Friday  we  went  to  the 
Villa  Madama,  a  half  ruined  villa  on  the  slope  of  Monte 
Mario,  where  there  are  still  exquisite  frescoes  of  Giulio 
Romano,  though  in  a  terrible  state  of  ruin.  The  chickens 
were  roosting  about  in  the  great  vaulted  hall  and  it  seemed 
hard  that  anything  so  beautiful  and  valuable  should  be 
allowed  to  get  so  dilapidated.  I  am  thinking  of  going  to 
Albano  by  carriage  to  see  the  whole  of  the  Appian  Way 
as  it  leads  straight  to  Albano.  Miss  Clarke  and  I  visited 
some  studios  yesterday;  today  she  has  gone  to  Monte 
Cassino,  half  way  between  here  and  Naples;  she  wants  to 
make  a  sketch  there  and  invited  me  to  go  with  her,  but 
I  felt  I  was  not  strong  enough  for  rough  living  and  moun- 
tain climbing.  ...  I  think  I  shall  enjoy  Florence,  I 
used  to  like  it  so  very  much,  but  I  cannot  bear  to  leave 
Rome;  one  never  knows  what  may  happen  and  I  cannot 
be  sure  of  ever  coming  back  to  it  and  next  to  home  I 
love  Rome  best  in  the  world. 

Tuesday,  May  20th.  We  drove  yesterday  to  the  baths 
of  Caracalla  and  afterward  to  the  Villa  Doria;  the  latter 
was  as  delightful  as  ever  and  we  walked  about  for  an 
hour  in  the  fields  where  the  grass  was  cut  and  raked  into 


258  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

cocks.  K.  enjoyed  tumbling  about  in  the  hay  and  other 
people  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as  well,  for  I  saw  young  Prince 
Doria  with  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  sitting  in 
the  shade  of  a  hay  cock,  pelting  each  other  with  grass  and 
otherwise  disporting  themselves  like  children. 

Rome,  May  24. 
I  returned  yesterday  from  a  charming  two  days'  ex- 
cursion to  the  country;  instead  of  going  by  rail  which 
leaves  you  three  miles  from  Albano  I  decided  to  go  all 
the  way  in  my  own  little  carriage  which  I  could  then  keep 
there  and  use  for  excursions  during  my  stay.  So  Thurs- 
day morning  we  started,  taking  bread  and  meat,  wine  and 
fruit  with  us  to  lunch  on  the  way;  we  followed  the  old 
Appian  AVay  and  the  scenery  was  enchanting,  especially 
as  we  began  the  ascent  to  Albano.  You  could  see  the 
sea  glittering  on  the  horizon.  We  lunched  under  a  group 
of  stone  pine  trees  which  shaded  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 
tomb;  we  sat  on  fallen  columns  and  made  a  table  of  a 
finely  sculptured  capital.  We  all  enjoyed  our  al  fresco 
repast  amazingly.  We  reached  Albano  at  half  past  one 
and  had  our  choice  of  rooms  at  the  hotel,  as  we  were  the 
only  guests.  The  hotel  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  hill  on 
a  terrace,  and  commands  a  magnificent  view  over  the 
Campagna  and  the  sea.  Our  windows  had  the  same  view 
and  the  combination  of  sea  and  mountain  air  was  most 
invigorating.  We  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  beautiful 
Villa  Doria  there  and  in  the  terraced  garden  of  the  hotel 
with  its  tinkling  fountain  and  wealth  of  flowers.  We  drove 
toward  evening  to  see  the  great  viaduct  of  Ariccia.  It 
rests  on  three  tiers  of  arches  and  is  as  ornamental  as  it 
is  useful.  The  next  morning  after  our  coffee  and  rolls, 
we  had  a  lunch  prepared  to  take  with  us  and  left  in  our 
carriage  for  Frascati ;  I  think  I  never  passed  over  such  a 
beautiful  road  in  my  life.  It  wound  round  the  mountain 
side,   shadowed   and   arched    over  by   century   old   trees. 


LETTEES  259 

1873 
Age    31 

through  whose  branches  we  always  had  the  glorious  view 
that  we  had  at  Albano.  The  mountain  sides  were  clothed 
with  olives  and  chestnuts  and  here  and  there  a  village 
perched  high  up.  From  time  to  time  we  passed  the  gates 
of  stately  villas  but  for  the  most  part  the  road  was  lined 
with  trees  and  sweet  briar  roses  and  tangled  underbrush. 
We  presently  ascended  a  little,  and  all  at  once  the  Lake  of 
Albano  burst  upon  us;  it  is  a  tiny  mountain  lake  which 
fills  what  once  was  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  Its  steep  sides 
are  green  as  emerald  and  far  above  one  sees  Monte  Cavo 
crowned  with  its  white  convent  walls,  mirrored  in  the  little 
lake.  Half  way  up  its  side  Pallazuola  clings  to  a  jutting 
cliff  and  Roeca  di  Papa  frowns  down  from  the  middle 
height.  We  next  reached  Castel  Gandolfo  the  summer 
residence  of  the  Pope ;  the  palace  is  square  and  plain  with 
a  little  village  gathered  about  it,  but  the  position  is  unique, 
for  it  commands  the  whole  Campagna  to  the  sea  on  the 
one  side  and  on  the  other  looks  into  the  blue  depths  of  the 
lake  and  across  it  to  the  mountains  beyond.  Anything 
more  beautiful  my  eyes  have  never  seen.  After  this  we 
passed  through  Marino  and  so  wound  round  the  mountains 
till  we  got  a  wider  view  of  the  Campagna  with  Rome  in  the 
distance,  Mt.  Soracte  and  presently  the  Sabine  Hills  and 
Tivoli,  and  by  this  time  we  were  at  Frascati.  The  whole 
drive  took  us  but  an  hour  and  a  half,  but  it  was  filled  to 
overflowing  with  beauty  and  pleasure.  I  have  mentioned 
the  briar  roses  and  the  ivy  clasping  every  tree  trunk  but 
I  must  not  forget  blue  and  yellow  flowers  that  enamel 
every  inch  of  the  ground,  scarlet  poppies  that  flaunt  from 
every  stone  wall  and  enrich  with  their  vivid  colour  every 
tuft  of  grass  and  maize  field.  Arrived  at  Frascati  we  took 
our  lunch  basket  to  the  same  villa  where  we  were  before, 
(Aldobrandini)  ;  we  chose  a  place  by  a  fountain  to  give 
us  water  for  our  wine  and  that  provided  a  stone  seat  for 
our  table;  our  dessert  was  great  white  heart  cherries  and 
fresh  mountain  strawberries  which  we  had  bought  along 


260  -  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

the  road.  We  were  so  hungry  that  we  congratulated  our- 
selves on  having  made  ample  provision  and  K.  was  de- 
lighted to  find  that  some  brown  peasant's  bread  of  which 
she  is  very  fond  had  been  included  in  our  lunch  basket. 
Indeed  I  found  it  very  sweet  and  good  myself,  and  pre- 
ferred it  to  the  white  and  finer  rolls  brought  with  us  from 
Rome  the  day  before.  After  our  luncheon  we  lounged  a 
bit  and  then  with  donkeys  started  on  our  climb  to  the  ruins 
of  Tusculum.  We  wound  up  the  hill  behind  Frascati 
through  green  lanes  and  along  smooth  pathways;  in  one 
place  under  a  perfect  tunnel  of  verdure  that  hardly  ad- 
mitted a  gleam  of  sunshine;  catching  fleeting  glimpses  of 
the  Campagna  and  the  distant  mountains  while  in  places 
what  seemed  like  a  flood  of  sunshine  on  the  pathway 
proved  to  be  a  blaze  of  golden  gorse  bushes.  As  we  came 
out  on  the  more  open  part  of  the  road  the  wild  thyme 
crushed  by  our  donkeys'  feet  gave  out  its  sweet  perfume. 
At  last  we  reached  the  ruins  of  the  amphitheatre,  but  it 
seemed  to  have  small  interest  for  me  beside  the  glorious 
view.  It  was  after  all  the  same  as  from  Albano  or  from 
Frascati  only  that  from  this  height  one  got  it  all  at  once 
in  one  great  panorama,  not  in  portions,  as  from  below. 
From  Porto  d'  Anzio  to  Ardea  stretched  the  sea;  then  the 
Campagna  and  Rome  and  beyond  that  Monte  Cimino, 
the  "Ciminian  Hill"  of  Macaulay's  ''Lays  of  Ancient 
Rome."  Following  round  the  circle  came  the  plain 
again  and  then  Soracte  and  the  Sabine  Hills  with 
Monticelli  and  Tivoli  gleaming  white  from  their  sides. 
Frascati  and  other  villages  were  just  below  us,  Rome  and 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  seemed  not  far  off  and  to  our  left 
rose  Monte  Cavo,  Rocca  di  Papa,  Castel  Gandolfo,  and  be- 
hind mountain  rising  behind  mountain  the  long  range  that 
stretches  away  into  the  kingdom  of  Naples.  We  spent  a 
little  while  examining  the  ruins,  there  are  well  preserved 
remains  of  an  amphitheatre,  of  cisterns  and  the  founda- 
tions of  temples;  and  they  are  picturesque,  shadowed  by 


LETTEES  261 

1873 
Age   31 

great  trees  and  our  donkeys  resting  among  them  added  to 
the  picture.  We  went  slowly  back  passing  the  entrances 
to  the  villas  Mondragone,  Aldobrandini,  Ruffinelli,  etc. 
Arrived  at  Frascati  we  took  a  little  turn  around  the  village 
and  into  the  quiet  church  and  then  when  our  carriage  was 
ready  we  left  for  Rome.  We  did  not  forget  to  buy  some 
cherries  which  are  especially  good  at  Frascati  to  regale 
ourselves  on  the  way  home;  for  the  little  boy  of  our  pro- 
prietress and  for  our  parrot  who  chuckles  and  whistles 
and  sings  over  them.     .     .     . 

You  ask  if  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Gould  since  I  came  to 
Rome;  no,  I  have  not  but  I  know  that  she  now  lives  over 
Piale's  book-store  at  the  corner  of  the  Piazza  di  Spagna. 
I  have  seen  Miss  Lewis,  the  coloured  sculptress,  once  in 
the  street.  ...  I  think  the  cholera  is  as  yet  confined 
to  Turkey  and  Poland ;  I  hope  it  may  not  spread.  Doctor 
Taussig  who  made  me  a  friendly  call  today  brought  me  the 
news  of  the  resignation  of  M.  Thiers  and  that  Marshal  Mac- 
Mahon  is  now  President  of  the  French  Republic.  I  note 
what  you  say  of  the  lowering  of  the  bridges  on  Pine  and 
Arch  streets;  it  will  be  a  great  improvement  and  I  trust 
they  will  lower  the  Chestnut  street  one  also.  Your  view 
toward  Water  street  will  then  be  uninterrupted.  .  .  . 
I  do  not  know  where  I  shall  spend  the  summer,  nor  if  I 
can  get  so  far  as  Holland;  of  course  I  should  like  to  go 
home,  I  am  unbearably  homesick  sometimes,  but  I  am  so 
anxious  to  get  well  that  I  try  to  be  content  to  do  only  what 
seems  most  prudent  for  my  health.  I  am  getting  on  I 
think,  all  warmth  does  me  good. 

Florence,  June  3. 
My  last  week  in  Rome  was  very  pleasant.  I  went  to 
see  Mme.  Simonetti  and  from  her  windows  saw  a  procession, 
some  civic  affair  with  a  good  deal  of  military  display.  All 
this  was  in  the  Corso  upon  which  Mme.  S's  windows  look. 
I  enjoyed  my  last  drives  in  the  Villa  Borghese  and  the 


262  LETTERS 

1873 
Age  31 

Villa  Doria;  I  dined  one  day  with  Miss  Clarke  and  had 
a  pleasant  evening;  then  on  Monday  evening  all  my  good 
friends  came  to  bid  me  good-bj^e.  They  have  all  been  so 
kind  to  me  that  I  was  sorry  to  part  with  them.  Rome 
seems  more  like  home  than  any  other  place  in  Europe.  I 
think  we  shall  only  remain  here  ten  days  and  then  go  on 
to  the  Baths  of  Lucca  and  settle  there  for  some  time.  I 
may  take  a  small  apartment  as  I  hear  that  at  Lucca  they 
are  very  cheap.  One  of  five  or  six  rooms  can  be  had  for 
a  hundred  francs  a  month;  also  that  as  many  English 
people  go  there,  one  finds  English  comfort  and  conveni- 
ences.   The  Baths  will  be  a  luxury. 

June  9. 
Florence  seems  very  quiet  and  dull  after  Rome;  there 
is  so  little  life  in  the  streets;  it  is  just  the  reverse  of  what 
it  used  to  be.  In  the  old  times  Rome  seemed  dead  and 
Florence  lively  and  bustling,  but  the  change  of  Capital 
has  changed  everything.  Sunday  there  was  a  Regatta 
just  before  our  windows.  As  a  background  there  was  the 
Duomo  and  Campanile  gleaming  white  and  radiant,  the  old 
tower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  rosy  in  the  sunlight,  the 
Ponte  Santa  Trinita  with  a  rainbow  over  it,  and  in  the 
foreground  the  lovely  elliptical  arches  of  the  bridge  which 
formed  frames  for  the  gay  groups  of  boats  on  the  river; 
flags  on  all  the  little  barques,  boatmen  in  scarlet,  in  blue 
and  in  white  and  gaily  dressed  people  crowding  the  quai. 
In  the  evening  the  boatmen  who  won  the  race  had  a  supper 
on  a  barge  profusely  illuminated.  They  floated  slowly 
down  the  river  with  song  and  music.  There  is  so  much 
that  is  bright,  picturesque  and  poetical  in  even  the  every 
day  life  of  this  land.  I  can  sit  at  my  window  at  any 
time  and  be  entertained  by  the  people  crossing  the  bridge 
below  me,  looking  off  to  the  river  and  the  hills  and  watch- 
ing the  old  man  who  sells  beans  on  the  quai  to  the  pass- 
ing workmen,  and  the  scarlet  capped  boatmen  as  they  pole 
their  boats  up  and  down  the  river.     .     .     . 


LETTERS  263 

1873 

Age   31 

I  was  almost  sorry  to  hear  that  the  old  library  in  the 
dining  room  had  been  removed ;  I  was  fond  of  it  though 
I  know  the  upper  shelves  were  inconvenient.  Many  a  time 
I  have  clung  by  one  hand  to  the  shelf  while  I  balanced  my- 
self on  the  lower  part,  and  in  that  precarious  position  be- 
come absorbed  in  Irving 's  "  Abbottsf ord "  or  "Newstead 
Abbey"  or  the  ''Tales  of  a  Traveler".  How  enchanting 
a  few  pages  of  "Wolfert's  Roost"  or  "A  Romance  of  the 
Alhambra"  seemed  to  me  read  on  the  top  of  a  ladder 
while  I  ought  to  have  been  dusting  and  putting  in  order 
the  shelves  of  that  same  old  library.  Please  do  not  change 
the  old  home  too  much ;  every  change  brings  a  pang  to  my 
heart;  yet  all  the  changes  you  have  made  hitherto  have 
been  great  improvements  when  we  got  used  to  them,  for 
instance  what  a  comfort  the  bath  room  up  stairs  has  been. 
That  was  Mother's  idea  and  her  chef  d'oeuvre. 

Bagni  di  Lucca,  Hotel  du  Pare,  July  14. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Your  letter  of  June  23rd  reached  me  some  days  ago ;  I 
am  glad  you  have  benefitted  by  your  week  at  Minnequa 
Springs;  from  what  you  say  of  the  water  I  think  it  must 
be  a  good  deal  like  the  water  here,  that  is,  just  pure  fresh 
water.  I  think  the  springs  here  are  scarcely  medicinal  at 
all;  the  water  is  very  hot,  about  100  degrees  Fah.  and  but 
so  slightly  impregnated  with  iron  or  other  substance  that 
they  can  scarcely  be  either  strengthening  or  remedial. 
They  are,  however,  very  agreeable  and  when  taken  cold 
are  of  some  use  to  me.  I  found  a  tepid  bath  beneficial 
the  other  day  in  removing  the  aches  and  pains  caused  by 
a  donkey  ride.  I  have  often  envied  people  who  had  min- 
eral springs  at  their  doors,  but  of  course  one  sort  of  water 
generally  cures  but  one  kind  of  trouble  and  it  is  rare  to 
be  blest  as  the  people  of  Viterbo  are  who  have  a  sulphurous 
spring  and  an  iron  spring  close  together.  The  only  wa- 
ters that  are  directly  beneficial  in  cases  of  weak  or  dis- 
eased chest  and  throat  are  the  Eaux  Bonnes  in  the  French 


264  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

Pyrenees.  An  English  lady  here  has  been  cured  of  long 
standing  bronchitis  by  the  use  of  these  waters.  Dr.  Bac- 
eelli  urged  my  going  to  this  place,  but  it  is  too  far  away. 
I  do  not  seem  to  have  much  to  tell  you  this  week ;  life  here 
is  very  tranquil  and  uneventful.  Mrs.  Crowninshield  asked 
me  to  tea  the  other  evening  and  I  met  there  young  Mr. 
Crawford,  son  of  the  sculptor  Crawford  and  also  of  my 
friend  Mrs.  Terry.  You  know  Mrs.  Terry  was  first  married 
to  Mr.  Crawford.  I  had  a  pleasant  call  from  Mrs.  Terry 
the  other  day;  Mr.  Donald  McLean  is  a  charming  old 
Scotch  gentleman  overflowing  with  anecdote  and  humour, 
He  is  a  guest  in  this  hotel  and  he  enlivens  our  dinners  with 
his  racy  stories  and  his  reminiscences  of  old  times.  He  is 
about  eighty  I  should  think,  and  has  lived  for  many  years 
in  Naples.  Hannah  More  was  his  mother's  governess  and 
he  has  known  all  sorts  of  interesting  people.  One  day 
this  week  a  party  of  us  went  on  donkeys  up  the  hill  to  a 
place  called  Benabbia  whence  there  is  a  magnificent  view. 
The  expression  ''up  the  hill"  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the 
steepness  of  the  way;  had  I  said  up  a  wall  it  would  have 
been  nearer  the  mark.  I  had  not  an  idea  what  I  was  under- 
taking but  I  had  a  capital  little  donkey  who  never  stum- 
bled and  the  view  was  worth  the  trip.  The  next  day  I 
was  not  of  the  same  mind,  as  every  bone  in  my  body  ached 
and  grumbled,  but  when  the  bath  had  taken  the  ache  out 
I  went  back  to  my  first  opinion.  I  met  yesterday  Mrs. 
Tilton,  the  wife  of  the  artist  in  Rome,  and  Mrs.  General 
Graham,  who  knows  some  of  the  family.  I  see  in  the  paper 
today  the  wreck  of  the  ' '  City  of  Washington ' '  off  the  coast 
of  Newfoundland;  no  lives  seem  to  have  been  lost  but  the 
two  recent  wrecks  off  that  coast  are  a  damper  to  those 
who  like  myself  had  pleasant  anticipations  that  when  the 
railway  was  built  from  Newfoundland  we  should  have  a 
shorter  means  of  crossing  the  Atlantic.  To  sail  from  or 
land  on  such  a  coast  will,  I  fear,  be  always  dangerous.  Is 
the  railway  really  going  on?     I  see  the  ''London  Daily 


LETTERS  265 

1873 
Age   31 

Telegraph"  quite  regularly  through  the  kindness  of  some 
English  friends  and  glean  considerable  American  news 
from  it.  The  reports  of  the  Tichborne  trial  interest  me 
greatly  and  read  like  a  romance.  K.  is  out  every  morning 
at  eight  o'clock  with  her  nurse  and  returns  about  ten  full 
of  adventures  they  have  had  on  their  walk  and  laden  with 
a  profusion  of  wild  flowers  wherewith  to  decorate  our 
rooms.  Preponderant  among  them  long  branches  of 
clematis  and  a  sort  of  wild  sweet  william  of  a  vivid  rose 
colour.  The  weather  is  pretty  hot  between  twelve  and  four, 
but  I  do  not  suffer  in  the  least.  There  is  a  charming  cafe 
a  few  steps  from  here  where  one  can  sit  in  a  shady  garden 
and  eat  delicious  ices  at  six  cents  a  saucerful!  It  has 
become  a  great  resort  and  one  meets  one's  friends  there 
about  five  o'clock  every  day.     .     .     . 

I  am  glad  to  see  the  cholera  is  disappearing  from  Cin- 
cinnati and  other  places;  there  are  but  few  cases  in  this 
part  of  Europe,  a  few  at  Venice  and  elsewhere  but  none 
near  to  us. 

Bagni  di  Lucca,  August  4. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  have  just  come  home  from  a  delightful  drive ;  how- 
ever hot  the  days  may  be,  it  always  becomes  refreshingly 
cool  after  five  o'clock  and  that  without  dampness.  We 
drive  usually  till  eight  and  come  home  hungry  for  supper. 
Last  Saturday  Mrs.  Terry  gave  a  little  party  on  her  son's 
birthday;  she  borrowed  Mrs.  Crowninshield 's  garden  for 
the  occasion  and  the  company  was  a  very  pleasant  mix- 
ture of  old  and  young.  There  was  dancing  for  the  young- 
er people  on  the  lawn  and  the  rest  of  us  talked,  ate  ices 
and  drank  tea  and  afterwards  had  some  music.  There 
have  been  several  of  these  simple  garden  parties  and  they 
are  most  pleasant.  We  go  about  half  past  five  and  come 
home  at  nine.  My  garden  is  not  so  well  suited  for  a  party 
as  Mrs.  C's.  but  I  am  going  to  invite  a  few  friends  to  tea 


266  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

with  me  and  we  will  have  the  tables  set  under  the  long 
vine  arbour.  Mrs.  Terry  has  been  so  very  kind  to  me; 
she  is  so  beautiful  bodily  and  mentally,  and  I  love  to 
watch  her  face.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman,  of  Rome,  have 
arrived.  .  .  .  We  had  a  strange  storm  the  other  after- 
noon; it  only  lasted  half  an  hour  but  hail  fell  and  cut  the 
vine  leaves  all  along  the  valley  and  the  wind  broke  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  When  we  drove  yesterday  we  saw 
vines  completely  stripped,  the  leaves  literally  chopped  up, 
and  lying  an  inch  thick  along  the  road,  while  broken 
boughs  strewed  the  hillside.  The  Indian  corn  also  was 
completely  cut  up  and  beaten  down;  the  long  leaves  hung 
in  ribbons.  It  was  singular  that  along  one  bank  of  the 
river  there  was  this  desolation,  while  the  other  bank 
showed  no  trace  of  the  storm ;  yet  the  Lima  river  is  not 
so  wide  as  our  creek  at  home.  I  have  given  before  an  ac- 
count of  my  simple  occupations;  to  these  you  may  add  an 
Italian  lesson  three  times  a  week  now  and  at  odd  times 
posing  as  a  model  to  Mrs.  Carson,  who  paints  very  charm- 
ingly. ...  I  happened  in  reading  Galignani  the  other 
day  to  see  in  a  list  of  guests  at  a  dinner  given  by  Mr. 
Jay,  our  Ambassador  at  Vienna,  the  name  of  General  Cul- 
lum,  so  I  knew  by  that  that  Uncle  George  was  there  on 
the  twenty-fifth  of  July.  I  have  now  written  him  sending 
my  letter  to  the  Embassy  and  asking  that  it  may  be  for- 
warded in  case  he  has  left. 

August  11. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  have  just  finished  reading  the  paper  and  particularly 
the  Tichborne  trial,  and  now  I  begin  my  letter  in  the  half 
hour  before  my  Italian  lesson.  .  .  .  Saturday  we  had 
a  pleasant  picnic  to  a  place  called  Lugliano,  at  the  top  of 
the  mountain.  We  numbered  fifteen  and  went  on  donkeys. 
The  supper  packed  in  hampers  also  went  on  donkeys.  We 
started  about  six  in  the  afternoon  and  reached  our  destina- 


LETTERS  2fi7 

1873 
Age    31 

tion  in  less  than  an  hour  by  a  road  winding  through  fine 
chestnut  forests  with  little  streams  rushing  down  the  rocks 
amid  a  wealth  of  ivy  and  maiden-hair.  At  the  top  we 
found  a  level  plateau  covered  with  dry  grass  and  wild 
thyme  and  there  we  ate  our  supper  of  cold  meats,  sand- 
wiches, fruit,  bread  and  wine,  cake  and  coffee.  It  grew 
dark  before  we  had  finished  and  the  moon  not  being  yet 
risen,  our  guides  lighted  torches  and  stood  in  a  circle  hold- 
ing them  behind  us.  Later  in  the  light  of  the  full  moon  we 
sat  about  and  told  stories.  A  fire  had  been  lighted  to  heat 
the  coffee  and  the  men  from  time  to  time  threw  into  it 
handsful  of  thyme  and  other  herbs  which  gave  out  a  sweet 
perfume.  It  was  a  very  pretty  scene ;  some  one  pointed  to 
a  solitary  white  house  in  the  valley  and  remarked  that  it 
was  haunted,  whereupon  there  was  a  call  for  ghost  stories 
and  I  told  the  one  of  old  Newport.  We  came  down  the 
mountain  about  eleven  and  the  forest  was  indescribably 
beautiful  in  the  moonlight.  We  went  single  file  and  often 
far  apart,  and  on  the  winding  path  one  could  see  white 
figures  appearing  and  disappearing  among  the  trees,  now 
in  bright  light,  then  lost  in  deep  blue  far  above  and  far 
below  one.  One  of  our  party,  a  man  dressed  in  gray  on  a 
black  horse,  made  me  think  of  the  knight  riding  through  the 
forest  in  "Undine."  The  dashing  and  gleesome  little 
streams  conjured  another  suggestion  of  Undine  and  I 
wanted  so  badly  to  read  the  book  when  I  got  home,  but  of 
course  I  did  not  have  it  at  hand  and  I  felt  then  as  I  often 
do  impatient  at  the  restrictions  of  my  wandering  life  which 
deprive  me  of  the  privileges  of  a  library. 

August  19. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  have  your  letter  of  July  28th  in  seventeen  days,  a 
shorter  time  than  usual.  ...  I  have  been  to  Siena 
since  I  last  wrote  you.  Mrs.  Carson  and  I  started  at  short 
notice  to  see  the  curious  races  or  tournament  held  each 


268  LETTEES  > 

1873 
Age  31 

year  in  Siena  on  the  fifteenth  of  August.  Each  quarter 
of  the  city,  there  are  seventeen,  is  represented  by  two 
knights  with  banners  of  the  "Rione"  or  ward  of  the  city 
they  champion,  in  costumes  of  the  Middle  Ages,  who  ap- 
pear in  the  lists  and  indulge  in  tilting  and  the  games  of 
long  ago.  We  had  a  beautiful  drive  in  the  early  morning 
to  Lucca  and  went  from  there  by  rail  to  Empoli  and  thence 
after  a  long  wait  to  Siena.  I  am  sorry  to  say  when  we 
reached  there  we  found  that  the  races  were  not  to  take 
place,  but  that  this  change  had  only  been  decided  upon  a 
day  or  two  before  so  that  the  town  was  full  and  we  had 
great  difficulty  in  getting  a  room.  However,  we  at  last 
succeeded  and  after  dinner  drove  out  to  see  the  town.  The 
Duomo  was  our  first  objective  and  the  very  first  glimpse  of 
it  repaid  us  for  our  journey.  It  is  a  marvellous  example  of 
Italian  Gothic  and  its  many  coloured  marbles  and  the  gold 
of  its  mosaics  produce  a  marvellous  effect.  The  interior 
seemed  rather  like  a  mosque  than  a  church.  The  altar  was 
ablaze  with  many  candles,  and  my  first  impression  was  so 
vivid  as  I  stepped  inside  of  the  door  that  I  was  loath  to  go 
further  lest  it  should  wane.  I  wanted  that  first  view  into 
the  interior  to  remain  painted  on  my  memory  apart  from 
any  detail.  From  the  Duomo  we  went  to  the  old  Piazza 
Grande  and  saw  the  Lizza  the  public  drive  where  there 
were  handsome  equipages  and  fine  horses.  We  came  back 
by  way  of  Pisa  the  next  day  and  reached  home  again  at 
six  o'clock.  The  drive  of  two  and  a  half  hours  from  the 
Lucca  station  to  the  Baths  was  especially  lovely  in  the 
evening  light  and  the  coolness  of  the  mountain  air  was 
welcome  after  the  heat  of  the  plains.  .  .  .  This  even- 
ing I  have  asked  some  friends  to  take  tea  with  me  and  M. 
Zanetta,  our  host,  is  looking  after  the  details  of  it  for  me ; 
we  shall  have  tea  under  my  vine  arbour. 

August  24. 
.     .     .     My  little  party  on  Tuesday  evening  was  quite 
pleasant  and  we  had   a  very  nice  supper  consisting  of 


LETTERS  2(39 

1873 
Age    31 

chicken  patties,  mayonaise  of  trout,  cold  ham  and  tongue, 
peaches,  grapes,  ices  and  cakes.  My  arbour  was  illumin- 
ated with  some  Chinese  lanterns  and  with  lamps  on  the 
tables.  My  guests  were  Mrs.  Terry,  and  her  family,  Mrs. 
Freeman,  Miss  Brewster,  Mrs.  Crowninshield  and  her 
Mother,  Baron  von  Rabe,  Mr.  McLane,  Mr.  von  Lyro  and 
Mrs.  Carson.     .     .     . 

Paris,  September  9. 
My  Dearest  Mother: 

We  reached  here  safely  last  Saturday  morning  and  your 
letter  of  August  18th  reached  me  the  next  day.  We  left 
the  Bagni  on  Wednesday  and  had  a  five-hour  drive  to 
Pracchia ;  the  road  wound  along  the  valley  yet  high  on  the 
mountain  side,  so  high  that  we  were  in  a  cloud  part  of  the 
way,  and  it  was  a  singular  sensation  to  be  galloping  as  it 
seemed  through  space,  for  the  road  even  was  scarcely  visi- 
ble and  the  trees  as  we  rushed  by  just  emerged  vaguely 
from  the  mist  and  looked  like  ghostly  figures  saluting  us 
as  they  bent  in  the  breeze.  From  Pracchia  we  travelled 
the  whole  night  to  Turin  and  on  to  Chambery  which  we 
reached  by  the  Mt.  Cenis  tunnel,  and  found  it  not  in  the 
least  disagreeable;  we  had  one  window  open  all  the  way 
and  no  smoke  came  in  and  the  air  was  fresh  and  good. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  strong  current  of  air  the  whole  way 
through  and  the  passage  of  it  lasted  exactly  twenty-eight 
minutes.  The  tunnel  is  six  miles  long  I  believe.  At  Cham- 
bery we  went  to  the  manufactory  of  the  famous  ''gaze". 
I  had  promised  to  get  some  dress  lengths  of  it  for  friends 
at  Lucca  and  I  got  myself  one  in  plain  white;  it  is  not 
an  expensive  material  and  twenty-six  metres  only  cost 
about  seventeen  dollars. 

We  drove  also  to  Challes  where  there  are  mineral 
springs;  the  waters  are  highly  spoken  of  for  affections  of 
the  throat  and  the  hotel  is  an  old  chateau  with  beautiful 
grounds  and  a  fine  view.     I  found  the  rooms  large,  airy 


270  LETTERS 

1873 
Age  31 

and  well  furnished.  We  had  a  good  journey  to  Paris  the 
following  day  and  are  lodged  at  Miss  Ellis's.  Paris  seems 
rather  cold  after  Italy;  I  started  the  journey  in  a  linen 
dress  and  feared  we  should  suffer  from  the  heat,  but  in 
Paris  I  find  it  so  cold  tliat  I  am  dressed  now  in  winter 
clothing.  Oh,  for  the  blue  skies  and  warm  bland  air  of 
Italy ;  I  feel  already  like  rushing  back.  I  was  rejoiced  by 
a  call  from  Uncle  G.  yesterday  and  I  hope  I  may  see  a 
good  deal  of  him  as  he  is  to  be  in  Paris  some  weeks. 

Groningen,  November  6. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  left  Paris  on  Saturday  for  Amsterdam.  Mr.  Oyens 
was  with  me.  I  stopped  at  the  Amstel  Hotel  and  took 
Sunday  to  rest.  All  the  cousins  came  to  see  me  on  Mon- 
day, and  Tuesday  morning  I  left  for  Groningen.  I  felt 
rather  afraid  of  losing  myself,  as  there  were  two  changes 
to  be  made,  and  I  do  not  speak  a  word  of  Dutch,  but  I 
had  no  difficulty  and  was  met  here  by  Cousin  John  and 
brought  to  his  comfortable  house  and  warmly  welcomed  by 
his  wife.  I  like  her  very  much  and  the  children  are  charm- 
ing. John  and  I  enjoy  talking  over  old  times  and  Mead- 
ville  days.  The  house  is  modern  and  up  to  date  and  looks 
quite  American  in  many  respects;  for  instance,  they  have 
gas  fixtures  such  as  you  have  at  home  which  slide  up  and 
down  and  which  I  have  never  seen  in  Europe  before,  at 
least  not  on  the  Continent,  The  walls  are  covered  with 
photographs  of  Meadville  and  the  family.  Tomorrow  we 
are  planning  to  go  to  Harlingen  to  see  John's  Father  and 
Mother  and  Saturday  I  shall  try  to  go  to  the  Hoogeveen, 
Grandfather's  birthplace.  I  passed  through  it  in  coming 
here.  It  was  so  curious  that  all  along  the  road  I  saw  names 
familiar  to  me  from  having  read  them  in  Grandfather's 
"Life".  But  I  had  looked  vainly  for  Hoogeveen,  and  was 
about  giving  it  up  when  all  at  once  something  said  to  me 
"this  is  it."  I  felt  it  so  keenly  that  I  put  down  the  book  I 


LETTERS  271 

1873 
Age    31 

was  reading  and  peered  eagerly  out  of  the  window.  Just 
then  we  drew  into  a  station  and  there  was  the  name — 
Hoogeveen !  The  village  lies  a  little  way  from  the  railroad 
and  is  almost  hidden  in  trees,  but  I  intend  to  go  and  spend 
several  hours  there.  Groningen  is  a  town  of  about  forty 
thousand  inhabitants,  a  very  busy  place  with  many  fine 
looking  buildings  and  a  pretty  park. 

The  Hague,  November  14. 
My  Dear  Father: 

As  you  see  by  the  above  date  I  do  not  get  on  as  fast 
as  I  thought  to  do,  for  I  expected  to  be  back  in  Paris  by 
this  time.  I  have  been  detained  by  a  very  bad  cold  which 
has  prevented  me  from  seeing  the  Hoogeveen.  This  was 
a  bitter  disappointment,  and  it  was  aggravating  to  pass 
through  the  little  place  twice  by  rail  and  not  to  be  able 
to  stop,  but  I  really  was  not  able  to  face  exposure  and 
great  delay  by  stopping  over  a  train  there.  I  have  enjoyed 
this  Dutch  trip  very  much  and  all  the  cousins  have  made 
me  so  welcome  and  been  so  affectionate  and  kind.  I  am 
stopping  here  contrary  to  my  intentions  because  the 
journey  to  Paris  without  doing  so  would  have  been  too 
long  for  me,  and  I  also  found  J\Irs.  Hingst  expected  me  to 
visit  her,  so  I  am  with  her  for  a  few  days.  The  Dutch 
cousins  are  certainly  most  hospitable  and  warm  hearted; 
they  make  you  feel  at  home  at  once  and  render  every 
moment  of  your  visit  agreeable.  I  am,  however,  eager  to 
get  back  to  Paris  and  to  be  off  for  Italy  again.  A.  and 
K.  are  at  Chambord  which  they  thoroughly  enjoy  and  they 
will  be  loath  to  leave  it. 

Paris,  November  20. 
.  .  .  I  had  rather  a  tiresome  journey  from  The 
Hague  to  Paris  but  was  accompanied  as  far  as  Rotterdam 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hingst ;  they  wished  to  spare  me  all  diffi- 
culty in  crossing  the  city  of  Rotterdam  and  the  river  by 
boat;  so  they  saw  me  safely  into  a  railway  carriage  which 


272  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

came  through  to  Paris.  Dear  Cousin  Jacoba  said  she  would 
not  be  easy  otherwise.  She  begged  me  to  come  back  and 
spend  some  months  with  her  in  the  summer. 

Paris,  December  2. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  write  you  a  few  hasty  lines  to  post  before  I  leave  to- 
morrow evening  for  Rome,  going  straight  through  except 
for  a  day's  rest  at  Turin.  The  news  of  the  terrible  loss  of 
the  ' '  Ville  de  Havre ' '  has  saddened  us  all ;  it  is  so  terrible 
an  accident  and  many  are  mourning  friends  lost  by  it. 

Rome,  December  15. 
.  .  .  I  have  taken  an  apartment  which  suits  me 
wonderfully.  It  is  in  the  Palazzo  Lovatti,  via  San  Basilio. 
I  nearly  killed  myself  going  up  long  flights  of  stairs  look- 
ing for  quarters  and  I  thought  I  had  found  just  the  thing 
on  the  Corso,  but  it  was  so  cheap  and  yet  so  nice  that  I 
suspected  something  was  amiss  and  found  on  inquiry  the 
house  had  undesirable  tenants.  However,  I  am  at  last  in- 
stalled in  an  apartment  of  four  rooms  and  a  kitchen  which 
faces  south,  and  in  which  as  the  season  advances  we  shall 
have  much  sunshine.  Everything  in  this  house  is  new  and 
clean ;  the  beds  are  good  and  though  there  is  not  much  ele- 
gance in  the  furnishing,  it  is  comfortable.  I  am  close  to 
Mrs.  Crowninshield  and  her  mother,  to  Mrs.  Carson  and 
several  other  friends.  I  have  determined  to  have  our 
dinners  cooked  at  home  this  winter;  it  will  be  much  more 
wholesome  than  dinners  from  the  cooks.  It  will  also  be 
less  expensive  for  prices  have  risen  since  the  days  when 
you  were  with  me.  They  now  ask  sixteen  cents  a  pound 
for  meat — the  Italian  pound  is  of  only  twelve  ounces !  The 
weather  is  lovely,  clear,  bright  and  not  cold ;  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  one  does  not  need  a  coat,  but  of  course  toward 
evening  one  must  protect  one's  self.  I  have  seen  few  of 
my  Italian  friends  as  yet,  as  I  did  not  let  any  one  know 


LETTEES  273 

1873 
Age    :J1 

I  was  here  until  I  was  settled.  I  called  on  Mrs.  Terry 
the  other  day  and  she  was  as  cordial  and  sweet  as  ever; 
her  daughter  is  to  be  married  on  the  twenty-seventh. 

Tuesday  afternoon:  Mrs.  Crowninshield  came  to  take 
me  for  a  walk  this  morning  and  I  gladly  went,  for  she  is 
so  cheerful  and  gay  that  I  always  enjoy  her  company.  I 
found  Mrs.  Carson  here  when  I  came  in  and  she  stayed 
with  me  an  hour.  ...  A.  cooks  our  dinners  so  nicely, 
and  things  taste  so  much  better  cooked  at  home.  The 
"trattoria"  cooking  has  so  fallen  off  since  the  days  when, 
as  you  will  remember,  we  had  such  delicious  food  sent  in; 
now  it  is  perfectly  uneatable.  I  want  to  have  Aunt  F.  and 
family  to  dine  with  me  on  Christmas  and  hope  our  limited 
kitchen  arrangements  will  not  prevent.  I  wish  you  all  a 
Happy  New  Year  for  I  am  afraid  this  will  reach  you  too 
late  to  carry  my  Christmas  wishes.  Just  think,  in  less 
than  six  months  I  shall  be  at  home;  I  need  not  tell  you 
how  eagerly  I  look  forward  to  it. 

December  23. 
.  .  .  K.  is  to  have  a  tiny  Christmas  tree;  it  is  no 
more  than  a  small  bush  about  three  feet  high,  but  she  is 
perfectly  satisfied  with  it.  I  like  my  apartment  more  and 
more ;  it  is  the  warmest  house  I  have  ever  had  in  Rome.  I 
do  feel  so  well,  such  a  different  being  from  last  year.  I 
now  walk  twice  a  day  a  considerable  distance.  I  am  quite 
gay  for  me,  though  the  season  is  not  yet  well  under  way. 
Last  week  I  went  to  Miss  W.  who  had  a  few  friends  to  tea 
and  Friday  to  Mrs.  Terry, — a  party  of  fifty.  Yesterday 
I  was  at  Miss  Brewster's  afternoon  reception  where  there 
were  a  number  of  celebrated  people  and  where  I  met  a 
number  of  old  friends.  Anthony  Trollope  was  there,  the 
ugliest  man  and  the  shabbiest  imaginable  and  so  deaf  that 
1  had  to  roar  my  remarks  into  his  ear ;  however,  we  had  a 
pleasant  talk,  and  quite  a  long  one.  Mr.  Coleman,  the 
artist,  was  there;  I  think  you  know  the  family  in  Buffalo. 


274  LETTEES 

1873 
Age  31 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Story  were  there ;  Americans,  Germans,  Eng- 
lish galore  and  one  or  two  Russians.  With  one  little  Rus- 
sian lady  I  had  a  long  talk.  Princess  Vera  Ternicheff;  to- 
morrow evening  I  go  to  Mr.  Hooker 's  Christmas  Eve  ball ; 
next  Monday  to  Annie  Crawford's  wedding.  Last  night 
I  dined  with  Mrs.  Crowninshield.  I  was  out  all  this  morn- 
ing shopping,  and  preparing  for  my  little  Christmas  feast. 

December  26. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

Though  it  is  only  three  days  since  I  wrote  I  begin  my 
letter  early  because  Tuesday  is  post  day  and  Monday  will 
be  occupied  with  the  wedding.  Miss  Crawford  is  to  be 
married  in  the  morning  and  the  reception  will  be  from  one 
to  three  in  the  afternoon.  Our  Christmas  passed  very 
quietly,  but  I  was  busy  all  day  and  enjoyed  my  little 
family  dinner  in  the  evening.  Aunt  F.,  E.,  E.,  and  R., 
gave  K.  some  lovely  things,  and  I  had  a  trifle  for  each  of 
them.  I  gave  them  as  good  a  dinner  as  I  could  manage, 
but  giving  a  dinner  in  an  apartment  always  seems  to  me 
more  like  giving  a  picnic  under  adverse  circumstances.  We 
had  soup,  croquettes  of  chicken,  filet  of  beef,  turkey,  cooked 
celery  and  salad,  and  then  ices  and  coffee.  I  went  Wednes- 
day night  to  Mr.  Hooker's  party.  There  was  very  good 
music  which  nobody  listened  to.  Six  rooms  full  of  people 
and  such  a  stifling  atmosphere  as  I  never  felt  in  my  life; 
every  American  in  Rome  was  there  and  many  other  na- 
tionalities, too.  I  wore  my  crimson  velvet.  .  .  .  My 
afternoon  has  been  interrupted  by  a  succession  of  calls 
and  I  have  just  come  back  from  paying  my  respects  to 
Mrs.  Marsh,  the  wife  of  our  Ambassador,  who  lives  above 
me.  The  apartment  occupies  the  whole  floor  of  the  house, 
on  one  side  of  the  entrance  way.  The  other  side  is  occu- 
pied by  the  Princess  V.  Mrs.  Marsh  is  a  very  lovely  per- 
son, but  is  in  delicate  health.  Last  night  I  had  a  call  from 
Mr.  S.,  a  former  theological  student,  and  remembering  the 


LETTERS  275 

1874 
Age   32 

old  student  propensity  for  eating;  and  having  no  cider 
and  doughnuts,  a  la  Mrs.  Shippen  and  no  pumpkin  pies 
and  grapes  a  la  you,  I  offered  him  a  slice  of  cake  and  a 
glass  of  wine,  and  found  he  had  in  nowise  altered  since 
old  days.  He  was  very  glad  to  hear  the  news  of  Mead- 
ville,  and  I  am  sure  was  thinking  regretfully,  as  we 
talked,  of  the  great  pillars  of  ice  cream  that  used  to  grace 
the  generous  Meadville  tables!  I  am  almost  afraid  to 
boast  of  how  very  well  I  am,  but  it  is  such  a  comfort  that 
I  cannot  help  being  jubilant  over  it. 

Sunday,  January  4,  1874. 
.  .  .  I  think  I  am  enjoying  this  second  winter  more 
than  the  last;  then  my  enjoyment  was  drawn  almost  en- 
tirely from  nature  and  art.  To  this  is  added  this  winter 
the  pleasure  of  congenial  society.  Almost  every  evening 
there  is  a  reception  or  musicale,  a  party  or  a  dinner,  and 
my  health  is  so  good  that  I  can  take  part  in  all.  Beside 
which,  the  Roman  parties  are  so  very  simple  that  they  can 
harm  no  one.  We  go  at  half  past  eight  and  come  home  at 
eleven  and  we  drink  weak  tea  and  eat  crackers  or  small 
cakes.  On  Saturday  evenings,  Miss  Brewster  receives,  and 
last  week  there  was  a  delightful  combination  of  all  nation- 
alities, American,  English,  French,  Italian,  German  and 
Russian,  at  her  house.  Monday  of  last  week  there  was  the 
wedding  of  Miss  Crawford;  Tuesday  I  went  to  Mrs.  Dahl- 
gren's,  the  wife  of  the  new  Consul-General  of  the  United 
States ;  Mr.  D.  is  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  and  was  there 
during  the  time  that  General  Cullum  was  Commandant. 
Thursday  I  dined  with  Aunt  F.  and  Friday  there  was  a 
musicale  at  one  of  my  Italian  friends.  The  other  day  I  went 
with  Lanciani  to  see  the  excavations  recently  made  during 
the  cutting  for  new  streets.  Many  statues  and  interesting 
fragments  have  been  discovered,  chief  among  them  a  superb 
Hercules,  the  head  intact.  A  dismantled  and  empty  church 
served  as  a  temporary  museum,  the  whole  floor  was  heaped 


276  LETTERS 

1874 
Age  32 

with  fragments  of  inscriptions  and  statues.  L.  touched 
them  and  fitted  pieces  together  and  talked  about  them  as 
if  he  fairly  loved  them;  his  interest  and  enthusiasm  are 
touching.  He  explained  to  me  how  the  ancient  streets  lay 
and  then  pointed  out  the  lines  for  the  new  streets  and  I 
saw  prospectively  how  it  will  look  ten  years  hence;  what 
rows  of  houses  and  public  buildings  will  cover  what  is  now 
a  dreary  waste  of  barren  earth  which  is  being  turned  over 
by  twelve  thousand  workmen.  Well,  progress  is  a  great 
thing  no  doubt,  but  I  am  glad  to  have  known  Rome  before 
it  became  the  Capital  of  the  new  Italy  and  I  am  glad  to 
have  revisited  it  before  it  is  changed  past  all  recognition; 
it  will  never  be  the  same  Rome  again.  I  shall  stay  in  Rome 
till  the  end  of  April,  then  go  to  Naples  and  probably  take 
the  steamer  for  Marseilles  and  so  to  Paris.  I  hope  i  may 
get  home  toward  the  middle  of  June;  I  am  going  to  write 
soon  for  my  accommodations;  I  mean  to  go  home  by  the 
Cunard  line. 

January  10. 
There  are  still  so  few  strangers  in  Rome  that  the  pro- 
prietors of  hotels,  boarding  houses  and  furnished  apart- 
ments are  in  despair.  Miss  Ellis  writes  me  from  Paris  that 
she  has  only  seven  persons  in  her  house  and  that  at  the 
Grand  Hotel  there  were  only  eleven  people.  This,  for  a 
house  which  holds  a  thousand  persons  and  rarely  has  less 
than  six  hundred  guests.  The  absence  of  travellers  is  caused 
by  the  financial  crisis  in  the  United  States. 

February  21. 
I  had  thought  that  Lent  would  put  an  end  to  parties 
but  this  is  not  the  case.  Our  simple  soeial  events  continue 
and  I  have  just  had  an  invitation  to  the  de  F's.  tomorrow 
evening.  Yesterday  afternoon  was  Mrs.  Crowninshield 's 
reception;  Thursday  was  the  Marsh's,  Friday  Mrs.  Free- 
man's, tomorrow  Miss  Brewster's.  In  March  I  shall  re- 
ceive one  afternoon  a  week  myself.     Life  in  Rome  is  in- 


LETTERS  277 

1874 
Age   32 

deed  a  pleasant  thing.  I  yesterday  sent  a  little  basket  of 
Parma  violets  and  white  hyacinths  to  Mrs.  Dahlgren  to 
welcome  the  advent  of  her  first  baby,  and  I  had  a  charm- 
ing note  from  Mr.  Dahlgren  in  return.  I  have  engaged  my 
passage  home  definitely  in  the  "Abyssinia"  for  the  ninth  of 
June,  They  gave  me  choice  of  good  rooms  on  her  or  in 
the  ' '  Parthia  ".  .  .  I  am  very  uncertain  what  I  had  best 
do  when  I  get  home ;  I  do  want  to  settle  myself  somewhere 
as  soon  as  I  can.  I  have  led  so  unsettled  a  life  that  one 
of  the  chief  attractions  to  me  at  home  will  be  settling  among 
my  few  possessions  and  staying  among  them.  However,  I 
am  not  worrying  about  that  now.  Troublesome  things  seem 
to  slide  off  my  mind  here  in  the  air  of  Rome;  nothing 
troubles  me  much  and  I  do  not  worry  about  the  future  but 
enjoy  the  present  to  the  full.  If  I  keep  to  this  date  of 
sailing  I  should  renew  my  acquaintance  with  the  "Cus- 
toms ' '  of  my  country  about  the  twenty-first ;  I  had  hoped 
to  make  a  trip  below  Naples  before  leaving  Italy,  but  I 
hear  that  the  country  I  wish  to  visit  is  infested  with  brig- 
ands; the  chief  of  the  brigands,  Manzi,  was  killed  last 
year  and  there  has  been  some  security  for  travellers  since ; 
but  lately  Mrs,  Manzi  has  reopened  the  business  "tem- 
porarily closed  on  account  of  family  bereavement"  and 
conducts  the  affairs  of  her  deceased  husband  so  success- 
fully that  no  one  ventures  to  Paestum  at  present.  I  have 
no  desire  to  become  more  intimately  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
M.,  so  I  shall  probably  go  direct  from  here  to  Paris.  I 
think  on  the  whole  the  winter  has  been  rather  cold  here; 
there  positively  were  icicles  two  inches  long  one  day  on  the 
fountain  in  Piazza  Barberini,  a  phenomenon  so  rare  that 
all  the  gamins  of  Rome  came  to  stare  at  it  and  carried  off 
bits  of  ice  in  their  pockets  as  treasure  trove. 

April  3. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  believe  I  have  no  news  to  give  you  this  week ;  it  being 
Holy  Week  there  are  no  receptions  and  I  have  profited  by 


278  LETTEES 

1874 
Age  32 

the  leisure  evenings  to  do  a  deal  of  reading  and  studying. 
Last  evening  I  read  through  Henri  Baillieres  sketch  of 
Henri  Regnault's  Life  which  interested  me  greatly.  Reg- 
nault  was  the  most  promising  of  all  the  modern  French 
artists ;  he  had  transcendent  genius  and  he  was  killed  dur- 
ing the  siege  of  Paris  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight.  I  saw 
the  collection  of  all  his  pictures  exhibited  two  years  ago 
and  have  rarely  witnessed  such  genius.  I  have  never  lost 
an  opportunity  since  to  see  any  work  of  his  hand  and  have 
made  all  the  artists  here  who  knew  him  give  me  details  of 
his  life.  Strangers  are  flocking  to  Rome  the  last  few  days ; 
I  scarcely  know  what  they  come  for,  as  the  ceremonies  of 
Holy  Week  are  no  more  elaborate  here  than  elsewhere  since 
the  new  regime.  .  .  .  Recently  there  have  been  opened 
in  Rome  soup  kitchens  to  help  the  poor ;  all  food  is  so  dear 
that  I  do  not  see  how  the  poor  can  live.  My  wash-woman 
says  her  family  live  entirely  on  bread  with  a  little  oil  on 
it  to  make  it  palatable ;  and  this  is  their  food  without  vari- 
ation from  one  month's  end  to  the  next.  Sometimes  they 
have  not  even  the  oil.  Just  fancy,  veal  costs  thirty  cents 
a  pound,  beef  is  twenty  cents  a  pound ;  the  price  of  bread 
has  risen  again;  I  have  to  pay  three  cents  for  a  head  of 
salad  that  last  year  cost  one  cent.  Even  corn  meal  costs 
four  cents  a  pound.  ...  A  few  weeks  ago  I  heard  the 
famous  preacher,  Monsignor  Capel;  he  has  a  superb  voice 
and  delivery,  but  I  found  great  difficulty  in  concentrating 
my  thoughts.  This  has  come  about  from  my  dislike  to 
sermons ! ;  you  know  I  would  always  rather  read  one  when 
I  felt  inclined  than  listen  to  one.  Sermons  never  rouse 
in  me  the  slightest  religious  emotion.  I  listen  to  them  as 
I  would  to  a  lecture,  and  if  they  are  logical  and  clear  they 
please  me  as  a  lecture  would,  stimulating  me  mentally  but 
never  spiritually.  To  have  my  capacity  for  religious  feel- 
ing aroused  I  must  have  the  ceremonial,  the  music,  the 
tragic  impressiveness  of  ritual.  Nothing  so  overcame  me 
and  softened  my  heart  as  the  "Miserere"  on  Good  Friday 


LETTERS  279 

1874 
Age   32 

at  St,  Peter's  eight  years  ago,  or  as  the  Midnight  Mass  at 
Christinas,  or  the  Vespers  at  Siena  last  year,  or  even  the 
sight  of  Milan  Cathedral  when  I  first  entered  it.  But  I 
am  safe,  for  my  head  is  stronger  than  my  heart  and  would 
never  allow  my  emotions  to  guide  me.  My  belief  seems  to 
be  of  the  Universalist  order,  for  I  glean  the  good  from 
every  religion  and  make  of  the  assortment  a  religion  for 
myself. 

Paris,  May  22. 
I  note  what  you  say  of  hotels  in  New  York;  I  will  go 
to  the  St.  Nicholas  I  think  as  it  appears  to  be  less  expensive 
than  the  Clarendon.  I  shall  only  be  a  day  or  two  in  New 
York  any  way.  The  weather  here  has  been  clear  and  mild, 
and  yesterday  we  went  for  an  hour  to  the  Exposition,  but 
it  was  too  crowded  to  be  pleasant.  Your  letter  contained 
a  rather  gloomy  account  of  the  health  of  the  family;  the 
various  water  cures  have  not  seemed  beneficial.  By  the 
way  one  of  the  best  French  physicians  told  me  recently 
that  no  change  of  air  did  any  real  good  if  it  was  for  less 
than  twenty-one  days,  and  I  am  ready  to  believe  it  for  I 
remember  how  well  I  began  to  be  at  the  White  Sulphur, 
but  by  leaving  too  soon  failed  to  get  full  benefit.  The 
reason  that  the  Baths  of  Lucca  did  me  so  much  good  was 
because  of  my  prolonged  sojourn. 


1876 
Age  34 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  1876 


JOURNAL 

Bayonne,  Sunday,  February  20,  1876. 
We  left  Paris  last  night  and  reached  Bordeaux  this 
morning.  The  country  about  Bordeaux  is  uninteresting 
except  for  its  vineyards.  Between  Bordeaux  and  Bayonne 
it  is  one  continuous  pine  plantation,  the  approach  to 
Bayonne  is  wonderfully  pretty,  and  one  has  always  in  view 
the  Pyrenees  and  the  mountains  of  Spain.  We  are  at  the 
Hotel  St.  Etienne  which  is  exquisitely  clean.  We  have  been 
to  the  Cathedral  which  is  florid  Gothic  but  very  pictur- 
esque. The  town  has  narrow  winding  streets  and  some 
very  old  houses.  The  ramparts  are  green  and  shady  and 
there  is  a  great  shaded  esplanade  outside  the  walls  where 
the  population  were  taking  the  air  and  chatting  in  the 
sunshine.  It  was  as  warm  as  May,  a  real  southern  air, 
but  not  quite  the  Italian  sky.  We  saw  the  boat  which  was 
to  leave  tonight  for  Santander,  but  were  told  that  owing 
to  the  roughness  of  the  sea  she  probably  would  not  get 
away,  so  we  may  go  on  her  if  she  does  not  leave  till  to- 
morrow. Spanish  is  largely  spoken  here,  names  over  the 
shops  are  Spanish,  there  are  a  few  pretty  costumes  and 
some  women  who  wear  the  mantilla.  All  the  lower  class 
women  wear  a  coloured  handkerchief  on  the  back  of  the 
head  closely  enclosing  the  chignon.  The  men  wear  the 
Bearnais  cap  falling  on  one  side  and  red  sashes  round 
their  waists. 

February  21. 
We  drove  this  morning  to  Biarritz  in  a  little  open  car- 
riage ;  the  air  was  soft  and  balmy  like  a  June  day  at  home 
and  the  road  was  pretty,  lined  on  either  side  with  villas 
and  country  houses.    I  wish  we  could  have  seen  the  autumn 


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Fete  when  the  Basqae  peasants  in  their  costumes  come 
down  from  the  mountains  for  a  frolic.  It  is  said  to  be 
very  picturesque  and  is  the  only  occasion  upon  which  one 
can  see  the  population,  descendants  of  an  ancient  race, 
of  those  Pyrenees  which  look  so  far  off  and  inaccessible. 
As  we  entered  Biarritz  w  saw  the  Villa  Eugenie,  the  old 
imperial  summer  residence.  It  is  red  brick,  square  and 
not  at  all  attractive.  The  town  is  an  odd  mixture  of  over- 
grown hotels,  tiny  villas,  cottages,  and  a  few  shops.  It 
seems  to  be  built  on  half  a  dozen  levels,  so  that  you  go 
up  and  down,  and  round  and  about  strangely.  I  rather 
like  the  place  and  the  view  of  the  coast  is  beautiful.  It 
stretches  away  to  Spain,  hazy  in  the  distance,  ending  in 
the  mountain  called  "Les  Trois  Couronnes"  at  the  foot 
of  which  we  could  see  a  great  cloud  of  smoke,  and  we 
were  told  it  was  a  village  set  afire  by  the  Carlists.  Nearer, 
just  across  the  frontier,  were  smaller  columns  of  smoke  that 
rise  from  Carlist  camps,  for  this  extreme  north  of  Spain  is 
the  principle  seat  of  war.  Another  mountain  called  "La 
Haya"  rises  beyond  St.  Jean  de  Luz,  it  has  a  curious 
conical  summit.  These  places  with  Hendaye  formed  my 
first  far  off  sight  of  Spain,  and  even  this  excited  me!  I 
received  a  call  from  Miss  L.  to  whom  Miss  Wylde  gave 
me  a  letter  of  introduction.  She  was  most  kind  and  anx- 
ious to  be  of  service.  When  I  spoke  of  going  from  St.  Jean 
de  Luz  to  Santander  by  boat,  she  offered  to  get  informa- 
tion for  me  from  a  friend  as  to  the  best  means  of  trans- 
portation and  she  brought  to  see  me  the  Russian  Consul  M, 
Leon.  He  strongly  advised  me  not  to  go  from  St.  Jean 
de  Luz,  as  the  boats  from  there  are  horrible,  but  to  wait 
for  a  boat  from  here,  the  "Maria  Bilbao"  which  probably 
sails  on  Friday ;  so  I  suppose  I  shall  wait  till  then. 

February  22. 
We  drove  today  to  La  Barre  which  is  where  the  river 
enters  the  sea;  the  road  was  through  pine  plantations  that 
gave  out  a  delicious  fragrance.  When  we  reached  the  sea 
we  found  the  waves  breaking  high  against  the  tiles  of  a 
causeway  running  out  from  the  shore  and  it  was  not  a 
pleasant  sight  to  me  with  the  near  prospect  before  us  of 
having  to  cross  that  very  place  when  we  start  for  Spain. 
We  returned  by  a  different  road  and  stopped  at  "The 
Refuge"  a  community  of  Sisters  of  St.  Bernard.  There 
was  nothing  especially  interesting  to  see  except  beautiful 


282  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

1876 
Age  34 

needlework  which  was  for  sale,  and  I  bought  a  hand  em- 
broidered handkerchief.  We  took  a  stroll  on  foot  after  we 
came  home  through  a  quaint  old  street  with  low  arcades 
and  odd  dark  shops.  I  am  told  that  many  Carlists  are  tak- 
ing refuge  in  Bayonne  and  it  seems  as  though  the  war 
must  soon  be  over  for  the  Revolutionists  are  being  closely 
hemmed  in.  Don  Carlos  is  said  to  be  here.  The  rumours 
and  reports  floating  about  remind  me  of  the  old  days  at 
Chambord  during  the  Franco-Prussian  War  when  the 
Comte  de  Chambord  was  said  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood 
over  and  over  again,  and  all  the  time  was  a  thousand  miles 
away. 

February  23. 
We  spent  the  day  exploring  the  town  and  have  done 
it    thoroughly;    it    seems    time   wasted    waiting   for    that 
steamer. 

February  24. 
I  went  last  evening  with  Miss  L.  to  a  party  at  Mme. 
Allie  's.  She  is  an  English  lady,  married  to  a  comical  little 
Frenchman  who  speaks  atrocious  English  but  is  none  the 
less  proud  of  his  accomplishment.  General  Allie  came  in 
in  full  uniform  and  many  officers  were  present.  This 
morning  I  got  my  passport  properly  signed  and  saw  some 
Carlist  soldiers  coming  in  under  guard.  At  three  we  went 
to  the  steamer.  We  were  about  the  only  passengers,  with 
one  Spanish  lady  to  whom  we  spoke.  The  passage  down 
the  river  was  quiet  enough  but  the  moment  we  touched 
the  Barre  we  fell  flat  like  stones  and  never  moved  again! 
Where  we  fell,  we  lay  till  morning  all  through  a  most 
wretched  night.  We  landed  about  seven  and  I  felt  as 
though  not  even  to  see  Tangiers,  not  even  to  see  Italy  would 
I  spend  one  more  hour  on  a  boat.  I  almost  determined  to 
return  to  France  on  foot  rather  than  go  by  sea  again.  We 
were  landed  among  a  crowd  of  dark  and  dirty  Spanish 
beggars,  each  more  picturesque  and  more  filthy  than  the 
other.  The  morning  was  chilly,  the  mountains  that  shut 
in  the  bay  of  Santander  were  grey  and  misty;  we  were 
chilled  and  weak  and  ill  and  my  first  sensations  in  Spain 
were  far  from  enthusiastic.  My  desire  to  walk  back  to 
France  was  coupled  with  that  of  taking  the  first  steamer 
home  to  America;  it  is  not  often  that  I  have  been  over- 
taken by  such  utter  discouragement.     We  took  the  train 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  283 

1876 

Age   34 

at  nine  in  company  with  our  Spanish  friend  and  had  a 
long  day  and  night  of  travel  to  Madrid.  We  lunched  on 
cold  chicken  and  bread  and  butter  put  up  for  us  at 
Bayonne  and  at  the  station  of  Venta  y  Barros  we  had  ex- 
cellent tea  and  soup.  The  bread  everywhere  is  excellent  and 
so  far  we  have  had  butter.  We  passed  through  a  strange 
looking  country,  from  Santander  to  Valladolid ;  bare  sterile 
mountains  and  a  few  villages  so  nearly  the  colour  of  the 
mountains  as  to  be  hardly  visible  at  a  distance.  In  the 
twenty-four  hours  of  travel  we  passed  through  only  three 
towns  of  any  size,  Valencia,  Valladolid  and  Avila;  the 
other  stopping  places  were  mere  villages,  sometimes  only 
stations.  Except  here  and  there  in  the  valleys  there  seemed 
to  be  no  cultivation;  I  do  not  see  how  the  people  live,  but 
the  country  is  evidently  thinly  populated.  We  saw  a  few 
flocks  of  fine  sheep,  guarded  by  a  picturesque  shepherd  and 
his  dog.  At  Santander  the  women  did  porter's  work  car- 
rying the  trunks  on  their  heads;  from  the  time  I  wakened 
Saturday  morning,  February  26th,  the  country  we  passed 
through  was  the  strangest  I  ever  saw.  Bare  grey  moun- 
tains, covered  with  huge  rocks  and  stones,  soil  so  sterile 
that  not  even  gorse  could  grow,  nothing  anywhere  to  be 
seen  but  rocks  and  stones.  It  made  one  shiver  to  look  at 
so  savage  a  prospect.  Madrid  looked  dusty  and  arid  as 
we  drove  to  the  hotel.  I  said  good-bye  regretfully  to  our 
lovely  Spanish  friend  and  came  to  the  Hotel  de  la  Paix 
which  seems  very  comfortable;  I  have  a  nice  room  and  the 
table  is  excellent. 

Sunday,  February  27. 
I  breakfasted  in  the  dining  room ;  no  English  are  here ; 
all  French  and  Spanish  and  myself  the  only  lady  at  table. 
We  drove  in  the  afternoon  to  the  Zoological  Garden  and 
came  back  to  the  Prado  where  we  joined  the  file  of  carriages 
and  saw  all  the  Carnival  gaiety.  There  were  thousands  of 
masques;  several  times  a  handsome  costumed  figure  would 
leap  on  the  step  of  the  carriage  and  beg  money  for  the 
wounded  soldiers.  We  saw  yesterday  many  wounded  be- 
ing taken  from  our  train  at  Valladolid  on  stretchers.  Most 
of  the  women  in  the  carriages  on  the  Prado  wore  the  pretty 
lace  veil  on  their  heads ;  groups  of  young  men  with  guitars 
and  mandolins  and  castanets  went  about  dancing,  playing 
and  asking  alms  for  the  poor.  There  were  no  flowers  nor 
confetti,  and  altogether  it  was  far  brighter  and  finer  than 


284  JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1876 
Age  34 

Rome.  The  Piierta  del  Sol  presented  a  most  animated 
appearance  as  we  came  home;  round  the  fountain  in  the 
centre  were  peasants,  gypsies  and  every  class  of  person  in 
gala  dress;  groups  of  masques  with  music,  pretty  children 
dressed  in  Turkish  and  Moorish  costumes,  in  pompadour 
dress,  etc.  One  company  of  young  men  were  all  in  black 
and  yellow;  these  with  a  crowd  of  sightseers  filled  the 
square.  In  a  side  street  today  I  saw  a  queer  sight,  a  camel 
kneeling  down;  he  seemed  to  be  a  show  camel  however  as 
a  man  stood  near  and  asked  money  for  making  the  poor 
beast  get  up  and  down,  I  do  not  find  Madrid  at  all  pretty, 
but  of  course  the  sights  today  were  original  and  pictur- 
esque. 

Monday,  February  28. 
We  drove  past  the  Eoyal  Palace  today  and  through  a 
great  square  surrounded  by  arcades  which  had  an  oriental 
appearance.  We  finished  the  afternoon  at  the  Prado  amid 
the  carnival  gaiety  which  K.  enjoys  exceedingly.  So  many 
of  the  children  are  in  costume  that  she  is  begging  me  to 
get  her  one. 

Thursday. 
I  went  today  to  the  Galleria  where  I  passed  two  de- 
lightful hours;  I  never  enjoyed  any  collection  so  much; 
the  Velasquez  exceed  all  my  expectations.  His  portraits 
delighted  me.  "The  Lances  of  Breda"  is  a  glorious  com- 
position and  the  figure  of  Spinola  the  most  perfect  I  ever 
saw.  The  portrait  of  the  young  Prince  Balthazar  on  horse- 
back is  just  as  wonderful. 

Saturday,  March  4. 
Today  we  saw  the  Armeria  Real  which  is  the  finest  col- 
lection of  arms  I  have  ever  seen.  There  were  most  beau- 
tiful casques  and  shields  and  swords  and  guns;  the  trav- 
elling chair  of  Charles  V,  moorish  arms,  also,  and  trophies 
of  flags  taken  at  Lepanto  and  armour  worn  there  by  many 
a  noble  Captain.  We  also  went  to  the  Rag  Fair  a  most 
curious  and  picturesque  sight;  all  down  the  long  street 
were  rows  of  booths  and  on  the  grounds  were  spread  out 
as  in  the  Italian  fairs  a  quantity  of  goods  of  all  sorts.  Old 
iron  work,  swords  and  daggers,  old  brocades,  stuffs  and 
cotton,  laces  and  linens,  pictures,  old  books  and  antiquities. 
Such  a  jumble  as  it  was.    The  Englishmen  whose  acquaint- 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  285 

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Age  34 

ance  I  have  made  at  the  hotel  had  recommended  me  to 
visit  Booth  No.  12  and  I  found  there  plenty  of  things  that 
I  should  like  to  have  bought ;  I  confined  my  purchases  how- 
ever to  a  pair  of  fine  old  Italian  jars  and  an  altar  cloth  of 
linen  and  fine  old  lace.  ...  I  was  sorry  not  to  find 
any  old  books  but  the  only  ones  I  saw  were  parchment 
family  records,  with  illumined  pages  of  coats  of  arms; 
very  pretty  but  of  no  special  interest.  I  had  hoped  to 
find  an  old  Latin  missal  but  there  were  none.  I  saw  some 
tapestries  but  they  were  all  in  bad  condition. 

Wednesday,  March  7. 
I  went  today  to  the  Escorial. 


LETTERS 

Granada,  March  14. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  was  well  repaid  for  the  necessary  delay  of  one  more 
day  in  Madrid  by  receiving  your  letter  there.  "We  left 
Madrid  on  Saturday  and  I  was  touched  to  see  with  what 
regret  the  proprietor  and  our  new-made  friends  saw  us 
go.  The  two  English  gentlemen  whose  acquaintance  I  had 
made  and  who  had  been  kindness  itself  to  me,  did  all  they 
possibly  could  to  make  our  journey  comfortable.  I  cannot 
be  thankful  enough  to  find  such  kind  friends  wherever  I 
go.  One  of  the  gentlemen  is  Mr.  Nigeod  and  he  lives  at 
Chiselhurst  where  he  asked  me  to  let  him  know  when  I 
came  to  England.  We  had  a  most  comfortable  night  jour- 
ney to  Cordova  where  we  found  the  Hotel  Suisse  very- 
clean  and  comfortable  and  a  French  interpreter  at  the 
station  who  saved  us  all  trouble.  We  spent  the  afternoon 
at  the  Cathedral,  or  as  it  is  called  La  Mesquita.  It  was 
of  course  originally  a  Moorish  mosque  and  retains  much 
of  its  Moorish  character  even  in  its  changed  condition. 
One  enters  under  a  noble  Moorish  gateway  surmounted  by 
a  minaret;  this  gives  access  to  the  great  courtyard  filled 


286  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEKS 

1876 
Age  34 

with  orange  and  lemon  trees  laden  with  fruit.  The  sun- 
shine and  the  sweet  odour  of  blossoming  peach,  almond  and 
orange  trees,  the  singing  of  innumerable  birds  in  the 
branches,  the  soft  mild  air,  sent  a  thrill  of  well-being  to 
my  very  soul.  There  were  three  fountains  in  the  court- 
yard, built  in  the  year  700;  and  a  group  of  women  were 
filling  their  copper  water- jars  at  them  while  they  gossiped 
together.  Then  we  entered  the  Mesquita.  I  do  not  think 
any  thing  I  may  ever  see  will  make  such  an  impression  on 
me  as  that  first  moorish  building.  Imagine  an  enormous 
space  filled  with  one  thousand  and  ninety-six  columns  of 
jasper,  verd  antique,  porphyry,  etc.,  supporting  horse-shoe 
arches  in  red  and  white  marble ;  long  vistas  of  columns  and 
arches  in  every  direction,  and  arabesques,  stucco  work, 
mosaics,  and  coloured  tiles  (azulejos)  as  far  as  you  can 
see — truly  a  sight  that  beggars  description.  .  .  .  Cor- 
dova is  a  quaint  town  with  streets  so  narrow  that  you  can 
touch  each  side  with  outstretched  arms.  The  omnibus  that 
took  us  to  the  hotel  barely  could  get  through.  Carriages 
and  carts  pass  along  them  so  infrequently  that  they  are  as 
clean  as  a  floor.  The  houses  have  latticed  windows  and  bal- 
conies on  the  street  and  each  house  has  a  central  court  with 
a  marble  basin  and  fountain  surrounded  with  flowers,  and 
trellised  vines  and  orange  trees.  Everything  is  built  to 
ensure  coolness.  .  .  .  The  dogs  here  interest  me,  they 
are  a  mixture  of  dog  and  wolf  and  have  long  lank  bodies, 
sharp  noses,  pointed  erect  ears  and  a  general  wolfish  aspect. 
The  shops  in  Cordova  are  all  open  in  front  with  straw  or 
linen  curtains,  and  marble  or  tiled  floors.  In  short,  the 
whole  town  has  such  a  moorish  aspect  that  I  feel  I  need 
not  go  to  Morocco  to  get  an  idea  of  moorish  architecture 
or  customs.  Yesterday  at  two  we  left.  The  country  from 
there  here  is  very  different  from  the  north  of  Spain. 
Here  all  is  fertility  and  verdure,  beautiful  olive  groves, 
meadows  of  fresh  springing  wheat,  vineyards,  palm-trees, 
cacti,  aloes  everywhere;  and  on  each  side  such  beautiful 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  287 

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Age   34 

ranges  of  mountains,  and  sometimes  a  lake  with  a  white 
farm-house  or  villa  surrounded  by  blossoming  fruit  trees. 
The  hedges  are  all  of  cactus  or  aloes ;  I  want  to  get  Father 
some  cuttings  of  the  best  Spanish  vines,  but  have  not  yet 
come  to  the  best  vine  country.  Night  came  long  before  we 
reached  Granada,  and  I  regretted  not  seeing  the  approach 
to  the  long  wished  for  city.  Yet  the  night  added  a  mys- 
terious witchery  to  the  silent  streets,  narrow  and  winding 
ways,  lighted  only  at  intervals  by  swinging  lamps;  to  the 
tall  white  houses  leaning  toward  each  other,  their  latticed 
balconies  almost  meeting  high  above  where  only  a  faint 
line  of  sky  was  visible;  to  some  ' ' eaballeros "  muffled  in 
their  cloaks ;  to  a  few  beggars  asleep  in  doorways  wrapped 
in  their  ponchos ;  and  here  and  there  to  a  Moorish  shop  still 
open  and  lighted.  In  one  dark  street  two  men  were  strum- 
ming on  guitars  under  a  balcony  and  looking  eagerly  for 
an  answering  signal  from  their  sweethearts'  window.  We 
passed  at  last  under  a  great  archway  and  tower  and  drove 
along  an  avenue  with  trees  so  close  together,  so  tall  and 
ghostly,  almost  meeting  above  our  heads  that  we  doubted 
they  were  trees  at  all,  but  rather  the  arches  of  some  ruined 
cathedral.  The  long  avenue  with  trickling  water  courses 
on  either  side  and  old  walls,  brought  us  to  a  sharp  turn, 
we  caught  the  music  of  several  fountains,  and  then  lights 
and  bustle  broke  our  reveries  and  we  had  arrived  at  the 
Hotel  Washington  Irving,  which  is  in  the  very  grounds 
of  the  Alhambra.  Could  anything  be  more  pleasant  than 
just  such  an  arrival  at  Granada?  It  was  only  very  hard 
to  go  to  bed  without  one  glimpse  of  the  fairy  palace  so 
near  at  hand,  and  notwithstanding  it  was  near  to  mid- 
night, had  I  had  any  escort  at  hand  I  would  have  seen 
the  Alhambra  then  and  there  in  the  moonlight.  As  it  was 
I  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  of  it.  ...  I  found  about 
a  dozen  people  here  all  English  or  American.  Now  I  must 
try  to  give  you  my  impression  of  the  Alhambra.  I  have 
been  all  through  it  this  afternoon  and  it  is  as  different  from 


288  JOURNAL  AND  LETTEES 

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Age  34 

what  I  imagined  as  it  well  can  be.  I  began  by  being  bitter- 
ly disappointed  and  ended  by  finding  it  so  wonderful  and 
so  exquisite  that  I  cannot  now  conceive  from  what  my  dis- 
appointment arose. 

Wednesday. 
I  have  spent  all  this  warm  sunny  morning  wandering 
through  the  Alhambra.  Every  moment  adds  to  my  ap- 
preciation of  it;  I  believe  if  I  stayed  here  a  fortnight  I 
should  never  be  able  to  leave.  It  is  the  most  beautiful 
place  I  have  ever  seen.  The  exterior  has  no  beauty,  not 
even  any  distinctive  form,  Moorish  buildings  never  have; 
all  the  architectural  effect  and  beauty  of  design  is  reserved 
for  the  interior.  There  is  a  high  wall  very  old  and  mossy 
round  the  whole  mass  of  buildings  which  includes  the 
Palace  of  Charles  V,  the  real  Alhambra,  the  prison,  the 
square  and  large  gardens.  Outside  of  this  wall  are  the 
hotel  and  the  fine  avenues  and  groves  of  elms.  When  I 
had  passed  through  a  low  door  in  this  rough  stone  wall  I 
found  myself  in  a  small  court  surrounded  with  Moorish 
arches  decorated  with  delicate  fret  work,  paved  with  white 
marble  and  excessively  clean.  This  was  where  I  was  dis- 
appointed ;  it  looked  so  clean  and  small  and  orderly ;  there 
was  nothing  impressive  and  it  looked  too  well  cared  for  to 
have  the  charm  of  antiquity.  But  after  penetrating  from 
one  court  into  another,  from  one  beautiful  garden  into 
another  the  charm  began  to  work.  The  key  to  the  Moorish 
scheme  in  building  dawned  upon  me,  and  in  due  time  I 
was  lost  in  admiration.  The  central  idea  of  Moorish  archi- 
tecture was  to  secure  seclusion  and  coolness ;  there  were  no 
long  suites  of  rooms  or  enclosed  apartments,  but  instead, 
series  of  small  courts  or  gardens  so  small  that  the  sun 
scarcely  penetrated  them  except  at  high  noon.  These  had 
marble  pavements,  fountains  in  the  centre,  and  cypress 
trees  about  the  basin  and  in  the  corners.  Around  these 
open  spaces  were  arcades,  of  which  the  arches  were  sup- 
ported on  the  slenderest  of  columns  and  from  such  porches 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  289 

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Ago   34 

opened  the  small  inner  apartments.  The  Court  of  Lions 
is  perhaps  the  most  charming  of  the  many  courts  the  Al- 
hambra  contains ;  we  went  from  it  to  the  Sala  de  los  Aben- 
cerrages,  to  the  rooms  of  Lindaraxa,  looked  into  her  gar- 
den, leaned  from  her  balcony  and  gazed  upon  the  Albaycin, 
the  Darro,  the  Barrancos  de  los  Gitanos  far  below.  We 
looked  across  the  ravine  to  the  shining  Generaliffe  white 
and  sunny  with  its  dark  cypresses  against  white  walls. 
From  this  height  we  looked  straight  down  two  hundred 
feet  over  so  steep  a  cliff  that  nothing  could  grow  on  its 
sides.  Beyond  the  Generaliffe  and  the  Carthusian  Convent 
one's  view  swept  over  the  Vega  or  great  plain  of  Granada 
to  the  snowy  Sierra  on  the  horizon.  The  Vega  is  even  more 
extensive  than  the  Campagna  of  Rome  and  is  at  once  like 
it  and  different.  It  is  more  fertile,  watered  by  means  of 
millions  of  artificial  streams  drawn  from  the  Darro  and 
Xenil ;  literally  every  inch  of  ground  is  moist  with  running 
water,  consequently  everything  is  green  as  emerald  and 
fresh  as  possible.  I  become  more  and  more  fascinated 
every  enchanting  moment.  This  afternoon  I  drove  round 
the  city  to  the  Vivarrambla,  the  Zacatin  and  the  Alameda, 
of  all  of  which  Irving  speaks.  If  you  will  read  him  on 
the  "Alhanibra"  again  you  will  realize  much  of  what  I 
am  seeing  and  trying  to  describe  to  you.  Tomorrow  morn- 
ing I  shall  see  the  Generaliffe  and  have  another  stroll 
through  the  city,  beginning  the  day  and  ending  it  as  I 
always  do  with  a  quiet  ramble  through  the  charmed  Alham- 
bra,  passing  under  the  great  Gate  of  Justice  where  are  the 
Hand  and  Key.  It  is  so  nice  to  be  within  two  minutes  of 
it,  to  pass  into  the  stillness  of  the  courts  broken  only  by 
splashing  fountains  and  the  soft  rustle  of  the  breeze  in 
the  cypress  trees,  to  sit  and  bask  in  beauty  in  such  silence 
and  stillness  that  little  lizards  come  out  of  their  holes  under 
the  jMoorish  azulejos  and  look  at  you  and  enjoy  the  sun- 
shine with  you  in  quite  a  friendly  spirit,  until  the  custode  's 
dog  who  also  suns  himself,  changes  his  position  and  causes 


290  JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS 

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Age  34 

the  lizards  to  scamper  away.  During  my  many  visits  I 
have  learned  to  distinguish  Arabic  azulejos  from  the  tiles 
of  later  times  and  to  appreciate  the  arrangements  of 
colour  in  the  stucco  work,  and  the  infinity  of  designs. 
Blue,  red  and  white  or  gold  are  the  principal  colours; 
where  any  green  has  been  introduced  in  the  restorations, 
the  effect  is  glaring.  Nothing  can  be  more  harmonious 
than  the  pale  gold  and  blue  and  red  blended  in  a  thousand 
different  combinations.  There  are  niches  here  and  there 
near  doorways  for  the  slippers  which  the  Moors  always  took 
off  on  entering  from  without,  and  others  to  hold  alcarazzas 
of  fresh  cool  water.  Anything  more  beautiful  than  the  long 
vistas  of  ]Moorish  arches  and  windows  and  gardens,  one 
beyond  the  other,  I  have  never  seen.  The  ceilings  of  many 
rooms  are  of  cedar  painted  to  imitate  mother-of-pearl  in- 
laid work;  others  are  in  stucco  and  are  like  lace  work  or 
spider's  webs.  They  hang  down  like  stalactites  seeming  as 
though  they  would  dissolve  and  yet  they  have  outlasted  a 
thousand  years.  The  colours  of  tiles  and  roof  work  are 
wonderfully  preserved.  I  went  to  the  house  of  Senor 
Contreras  and  saw  some  beautiful  models  of  some  of  this 
work,  and  I  mean  to  have  one.  We  went  yesterday  to  the 
top  of  the  Torre  de  la  Vela  where  is  the  bell  which  is 
struck  every  five  minutes  from  nine  P.  M.  till  dawn  giving 
notice  to  the  irrigators  in  the  plain  of  the  hours  as  they 
pass.  From  this  tower  there  is  a  wonderful  view  of  the 
Vega  stretching  twenty  miles  or  more  to  the  mountains, 
the  Alpuxarras,  the  Pass  of  Loxa,  the  Gorge  of  Moclin  with 
its  moorish  watch-tower  whence  many  an  alarm  of  Chris- 
tian invasion  must  have  been  sounded.  With  the  cloudless 
skies  above  this  view  was  exquisite,  and  as  I  write  the  bell 
is  ringing  from  the  Torre  de  la  Vela  and  I  hear  now  and 
again  a  shrill  mysterious  whistle,  which  may  be  some  des- 
perate ''contrabandista's"  signal!  At  the  Generaliffe  there 
is  not  so  much  beauty  as  at  the  Alhambra,  for  much  of  the 
Moorish  fret-work  has  been  destroyed  or  barbarously  white- 


JOURNAL  AND  LETTERS  291 

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Age  34 

washed ;  the  gardens  are  charming,  shady  and  musical  with 
falling  and  running  water.  How  the  Moors  did  love  water ! 
It  runs  and  splashes  and  sparkles  everywhere.  .  .  . 
Will  you  please  keep  my  letters,  for  I  have  little  time  to 
write  up  my  journal  and  shall  depend  on  letters  to  recall 
much  that  I  have  seen. 

Thursday,  16. 

We  walked  down  the  long  avenue  today  and  visited 
several  shops  of  antiquities.  I  bought  a  large  plate  with 
the  arms  of  Granada  on  it  for  fifteen  francs.  It  bears  an 
early  date,  too.  The  Alhambra  grows  upon  me  more  and 
more.  Each  day  I  find  it  more  enchanting.  The  views 
today  were  surpassingly  beautiful.  I  now  realize  the  ex- 
treme beauty  of  which  Regnault  raves.  His  description 
of  the  exquisite  colours  taken  by  the  mountains  I  have 
never  quite  believed  in  till  this  morning.  He  does  not  ex- 
aggerate I  find,  far  from  it.  No  pen  could  do  justice  to 
the  wonder  of  the  Alpuxarras,  and  the  Sierra  de  Alhama 
clothed  in  soft  radiant  tints  of  pearl.  What  a  picture 
they  made ;  what  ineffable  beauty  God  has  here  spread  for 
the  benefit  of  us  poor  mortals. 

I  must  see  the  Maritime  Alps  again  on  the  Riviera  and 
the  Swiss  Alps  also  perhaps  before  I  can  definitely  judge ; 
but  I  think  the  palm  must  always  rest  with  the  Sierra  of 
Granada.  I  doubt  if  my  eyes  ever  rest  on  any  view  more 
perfect  than  this  and  every  hour  it  changes.  At  noon  all 
outline  is  lost  in  a  golden  haze,  later  the  shadows  deepen 
to  blue,  purple  and  then  black,  the  mountains  grow  rosy, 
the  Alhambra  towers  are  deep  flame  colour,  the  Vega  dark- 
ens and  fades  and  all  is  gloom  and  night.  Half  an  hour 
after  the  sun  has  set  dark  night  has  come;  there  is  no  twi- 
light so  to  speak  in  this  southern  land.  ...  I  had  se- 
cretly decided  that  even  at  Granada  the  sky  had  not  the 
deep  blue  of  my  beloved  Italy,  but  today  I  looked  into  a 
dome  of  such  wonderful  dark,  deep  blue  as  almost  startled 
me.     Here  was  indeed  my  Italian  sky,  flecked  with  white 


292  JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES 

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Age   34 

clouds  and  broken  by  red-brown  towers,  yellow  green 
leaves,  pink  peach  blossoms,  and  white  pear  trees.  In  the 
grass  below  nodding  buttercups,  periwinkles,  violets  and 
ivy  created  a  luxuriant  parterre.  I  spent  my  last  afternoon 
in  my  favorite  nooks  and  bade  the  Alhambra  adieu;  will 
my  eyes  ever  be  blest  with  its  exquisite  beauty  again?  I 
am  thankful  to  have  been  permitted  to  see  it  once. 

Saturday,  March  18. 

We  left  Granada  at  2  A.  M. ;  dreary  work  getting  out 
at  that  hour.  Yet  I  enjoyed  the  drive  through  the  narrow 
streets,  gloomily  lighted  by  an  occasional  swinging  lamp  or 
the  passing  lantern  of  a  guard.  The  sunrise  over  the  moun- 
tains was  glorious.  At  Bobadilla  we  had  a  delicious  cup  of 
chocolate,  good  bread  and  sweet  butter.  We  have  found  the 
bread  and  butter  excellent  in  Spain  except  at  the  "Wash- 
ington Irving  Hotel"  where  everything  was  wretched; 
rooms,  beds,  food  and  wine.  We  reached  Cordova  at  one  and 
lunched  there,  then  went  on  to  Seville  by  a  beautiful  road 
through  fertile  country,  pretty  towns  and  glorious  moun- 
tains. At  Palma  del  Rio  we  bought  oranges  for  which  the 
place  is  celebrated,  and  at  Loro  del  Rio  we  saw  a  score  of 
storks  walking  gravely  on  the  housetops  and  sailing  slowly 
through  the  air.  We  skirted  the  river  Guadalquivir  close 
to  the  bank;  I  have  rarely  seen  a  more  beautiful  country, 
everywhere  cultivated  and  at  this  season  fresh  with  blos- 
soming orange  and  peach  trees.  We  reached  Seville  at 
six  o'clock,  and  found  comfortable  lodgings  at  the  Hotel 
de  Madrid.  The  hotel  is  composed  of  three  buildings,  the 
centre  one  an  old  Moorish  house  with  a  beautiful  patio  and 
marble  paved  corridors,  salons  and  stairways;  all  round 
the  patio  is  an  arcade  enclosed  in  glass  for  the  winter,  open 
in  the  summer.  Inside  of  this  are  the  bed-rooms  and 
dining  room. 

March  19. 

I  visited  the  Alcazar  which  has  been  too  much  restored ; 
it  is  gaudy  and  lacks  the  harmony  and  delicacy  that  prevail 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTEES  293 

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Age   34 

in  the  Alhambra.  The  gardens  are  ptetty  but  retain  no 
Moorish  characteristics.  I  saw  at  the  Cathedral  the  paint- 
ing from  which  the  leading  figure  of  St.  Anthony  was  cut 
and  stolen  a  year  ago,  which  was  found  at  New  York,  re- 
turned to  Spain,  and  has  been  replaced.  The  injury 
scarcely  shows.  We  drove  for  an  hour  in  the  Paseo  de  las 
Delicias,  saw  the  Casa  del  Duenas,  the  Casa  del  Pilotas,  the 
Juderia  and  the  house  of  Murillo. 

Wednesday,  22. 
We  visited  a  porcelain  factory  today  and  K.  was  much 
interested  in  the  process  of  china  moulding  and  painting. 
I  like  the  Arabic  mode  of  calling  a  servant,  which  is  pre- 
served in  Spain;  it  is  clapping  the  hands,  not  the  sibilant 
sound  made  by  the  Italians  and  French.  Women  old  and 
young  and  little  girls  wear  a  red  or  white  flower  in  their 
dark  hair  hereabout  and  are  of  a  fine  classic  type. 

Thursday,  23. 
I   spent  several  hours   at   the  Museo  and  thoroughly 
enjoyed  all  the  paintings  but  now  I  am  ready  to  go  and 
eager  to  get  to  Madrid  to  Marseilles  and  perhaps  to  my 
beloved  Italy. 


LETTERS 

Biarritz,  March  31. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

You  see  we  are  out  of  Spain ;  I  think  the  last  few  days 
were  almost  the  pleasantest  I  have  spent  there.  My  few 
days  in  Madrid  were  very  pleasant;  it  was  nice  to  meet 
old  friends.  I  call  them  old  friends  for  they  seemed  so, 
though  I  only  knew  them  two  weeks!  Then  a  pleasant 
American  party  arirved,  composed  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James 
Barnard,  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Miss  Joanna  Rotch.  It  was 
delightful  to  meet  such  pleasant  company.     Then  I  was 


294  JOTTENAL  AND  LETTERS 

1876 
Age  34 

glad  again  to  see  my  friend  Mr.  Traynor ;  he  was  kindness 
itself  and  came  to  see  us  off  at  the  station  when  we  left. 
Mr.  Gushing,  our  Ambassador,  also  called  upon  me.  On 
the  way  from  Madrid  I  saw  Burgos  with  its  fine  Cathedral. 
The  railways  are  intact  again  and  though  the  trains  run 
slowly  they  run  surely.  Everywhere  I  find  kind  people. 
On  this  last  journey  we  had  as  travelling  companions  some 
young  Englishmen  whom  I  had  met  in  Seville  and  again 
at  Madrid.  I  was  able  to  give  them  a  meal  out  of  my 
lunch  basket.  They  had  been  relying  upon  what  they  could 
buy  along  the  way  and  were  dismayed  to  find  that  all  the 
stations  had  been  burnt  and  battered  during  the  war,  so 
that  from  nine  in  the  morning  until  eight  at  night  nothing 
was  obtainable.  .  .  .  Biarritz,  though  a  very  fashion- 
able place  in  the  summer  is  very  quiet  now ;  we  have  a  good 
room  overlooking  the  sea  and  are  very  comfortable.  The 
road  from  Madrid  was  beautiful,  at  least  the  last  half  of 
it,  for  one  passes  through  the  mountains  of  old  Castile, 
through  beautiful  valleys  and  picturesque  towns,  but  the 
battered  houses  and  ruined  walls  reminded  me  of  the  ruins 
about  Paris  after  the  war. 

Paris,  April  28. 
.  .  .  I  have  done  all  my  shopping  and  paid  all  my 
bills  and  my  trunks  are  packed  to  go.  I  have  not  bought 
much  and  am  so  tired  of  shops  that  I  hate  the  sight  of 
them.  What  tempts  me  more  than  fine  dresses  are  the 
beautiful  artistic  things,  pictures,  photographs,  books  and 
china,  but  I  have  pretty  well  curbed  my  desire  for  them. 

Malvern,  England,  May  5. 
We  left  Paris  Monday  and  had  the  most  comfortable 
passage  from  Havre  to  Southampton  that  I  ever  had 
across  the  Channel.  It  was  as  smooth  as  a  canal.  We 
stopped  at  Salisbury  and  saw  the  lovely  cathedral  which 
to  me  is  the  most  lovely  in  England  as  to  exterior,  with  its 
beautiful  green  close,  and  we  had  time  to  drive  to  Stone- 


JOUENAL  AND  LETTERS  295 

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Age   34 

henge.  I  find  Malvern  very  charming,  so  green  and  fresh, 
the  fruit  trees  in  full  bloom.  We  have  a  pretty  parlour, 
sunny  and  cheerful;  and  a  bedroom  above.  The  system 
of  English  lodgings  is  new  to  me ;  you  buy  your  meat  and 
vegetables  and  send  them  home  to  be  cooked,  but  I  found 
this  marketing  rather  a  bore  so  have  asked  the  lodging 
house  keeper  to  provide  for  me.  Malvern  lies  upon  the 
side  of  a  mountain  with  a  high  peak  rising  behind  it,  and 
in  front  there  is  a  view  over  miles  and  miles  of  beautiful 
valley.  The  houses  are  all  of  stone,  grey  with  age,  pic- 
turesque with  gables  and  towers  and  covered  with  ivy. 
There  are  iron  springs  and  many  people  drink  the  water. 
Last  evening  we  took  tea  with  Mrs.  Gracie,  and  today  have 
driven  to  Eastnor.  The  drive  through  the  park  was  won- 
derful; the  ground  was  covered  with  primroses,  hyacinths 
and  cowslips  with  anemones  and  violets  all  growing  wild. 
We  saw  a  pheasant  fly  up  from  her  nest  where  there  were 
ten  pretty  eggs.  One  week  from  today  we  shall  be  at 
Queenstown,  but  I  do  not  at  all  realize  that  I  am  going 
so  soon.  I  have  enjoyed  my  little  trip  very  much,  and  it 
seems  as  though  I  had  been  longer  than  a  few  months  away. 


1879 
Age  37 


LETTERS  OF  1879-1880 


Chester,  October  26,  1879. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  landed  safely  at  Liverpool  today  and  came  here 
where  we  are  a  very  jolly  party.  Our  two  Doctress  friends 
have  accompanied  us,  so  that  we  are  eight,  and  we  have 
a  sitting  room  together  where  our  meals  are  served  before 
the  cheeriest  of  coal  fires,  and  where  we  sit  and  chat  in 
the  evening  and  talk  over  all  we  have  done  and  seen.  We 
went  yesterday  to  the  Cathedral  and  to  the  queer  old  rows 
of  houses  and  shops,  and  in  the  afternoon  to  Eton  Hall 
one  of  England's  show  places.  The  Duke  of  Westminster 
was  in  residence  so  we  could  not  see  the  house,  but  the 
magnificent  hot  houses  and  gardens  were  shown  us.  I  noted 
especially  the  espaliered  fruit;  saw  bananas  growing  and 
fruiting  and  met  the  Duke  driving  himself  in  a  two- 
wheeled  cart  on  the  way  home.  This  morning  we  went  to 
service  at  the  Cathedral,  and  the  Judge  of  the  Assizes 
being  in  town  attended  in  gown  and  ermine  and  wig.  The 
Colonel  of  the  Garrison  was  also  there  in  scarlet  uniform 
with  some  of  his  men  and  the  Bishop  officiated,  assisted  by 
Dean  Howson,  so  often  mentioned  in  Kingsley  's  Life.  These 
two  days  of  rest  in  this  quaint  old  place  have  been  delight- 
ful to  us  all.  Never  did  green  turf  and  trees  look  so  wel- 
come as  to  our  eyes  weary  of  gray  skies  and  rolling  sea. 
And  the  bright  coal  fires  of  England  are  always  a  delight 
to  me.  Tomorrow  we  separate,  the  M.  Ds.  go  to  London 
and  the  rest  of  us  to  Warwick  and  thence  to  Southampton 
and  we  expect  to  cross  Friday  night  to  Havre,  and  stop 


LETTERS  297 

1879 
Age   37 

at  Rouen.  We  shall  be  in  Paris  by  the  end  of  the  week 
unless  fine  weather  beguiles  us  to  a  longer  stay  along  the 
Seine. 

Chambord,  November  22. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

We  are  detained  here  a  day  longer  than  I  anticipated 
by  a  heavy  rain,  so  I  will  start  this  to  you  here  and  finish 
when  we  get  back  to  Paris.  The  rest  and  quiet  have  been 
very  pleasant  after  our  rapid  travelling  and  sightseeing 
followed  by  tiresome  shopping  and  all  this  in  four  weeks, 
for  it  is  just  that  time  since  we  landed.  I  hope  we  may 
get  off  for  the  south  a  few  days  hence,  for  I  am  anxious 
to  get  to  milder  weather.  The  two  weeks  we  spent  in 
Paris  passed  very  quickly  and  though  I  had  not  much  to 
do  for  myself  I  could  help  Mrs.  D.  and  Mrs.  McF.  a  good 
deal.  Chambord  is  unchanged  and  every  one  seems  glad 
to  see  us.  I  went  yesterday  to  see  the  Sisters  of  Charity ; 
tJiey  are  not  the  same  who  were  here  before  but  I  knew 
one  of  these  slightly,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  call  and 
sat  for  an  hour  chatting.  M.  Arnould  was  glad  to  see  us. 
The  ladies  have  enjoyed  seeing  the  Chateau  very  much. 
K.  is  delighted  to  see  Chambord  again  and  is  all  over  the 
house,  in  and  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  playing  with  the 
cats,  of  which  there  are  five. 

Bordighera,  November  30. 
My  Dear  Father: 

We  have  reached  Italy  at  last,  but  have  not  come  at  all 
to  a  "sunny  south".  It  was  bitterly  cold  when  we  left 
Paris,  gray  and  cool  when  we  reached  Marseilles  at  mid- 
night, and  was  pouring  when  we  reached  Nice  the  next 
day.  It  cleared  however  sufficiently  so  that  we  got  a  drive 
to  the  old  castle  where  the  soldiers  were  practicing  on  their 
bugles,  just  as  when  we  were  there  together  so  many  years 
ago.  We  came  here  from  Nice  yesterday.  ...  I  find 
that  my  fears  of  having  forgotten  my  Italian  were  quite 


298  LETTERS 

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Age  38 

groundless;  it  all  comes  back  to  me,  and  in  a  few  days  I 
shall  have  recalled  all  I  ever  knew.  I  had  been  told  that 
Queen  Margherita  of  Italy  was  here  and  occupied  the 
whole  hotel,  but  we  find  she  is  at  a  villa.  She  tas  had  a 
fever  and  been  sent  here  to  recruit. 

DecemDcr  7. 
.  .  .  We  leave  this  evening  for  Rome.  In  spite  of 
unfavourable  weather  we  have  much  enjoyed  our  s:ay.  It 
cleared  sufficiently  one  day  for  a  drive  to  Mentone.  The 
wind  here  was  high  but  at  Mentone  we  found  it  calm  and 
genial  and  fine ;  it  is  so  much  more  sheltered  than  this  place 
and  the  west  wind  which  blew  a  hurricane  here  wai?  not 
even  perceptible  there.  I  think  we  are  going  to  have  good 
weather  now,  but  it  has  not  been  as  warm  any  day  as  it 
was  all  the  time  when  I  was  here  before.  The  sun  today 
is  blazing  into  my  room,  warming  with  that  sun  heat  that 
nothing  can  equal.  We  have  roses  on  our  table  and  a 
bunch  of  daisies  and  wild  flowers  from  the  olive  groves 
where  we  walked.  I  wish  you  were  here  today  to  have  a 
long  walk  in  the  sunshine  with  me;  the  sea,  as  ever,  is  of 
the  most  beautiful  blue  and  the  mountains  toward  France 
are  as  wonderful  in  colour  as  ever.  Their  shadows  are  so 
blue  and  transparent  and  the  far-off  peaks  of  the  Maritime 
Alps  glitter  against  the  blue  sky,  while  nearer  are  the  olive- 
clad  hills.  I  have  always  thought  the  view  from  here  one 
of  the  finest  in  Europe  and  I  think  so  still,  though  of 
course  the  view  over  the  Vega  at  Granada  to  the  snowy 
Alpuxarras  and  Sierra  Morenas  is  still  finer. 

29  via  Quattro  Fontane, 
Rome,  January  13,  1880. 
My  Dear  Father: 

Your  letter  of  Christmas  day  reached  me  last  Friday 
followed  by  the  packet  of  newspapers.  If  you  see  any 
articles  of  Francis  Parkman's  on  the  "Woman"  question 
or  any  review  of  them  or  replies  to  them  from  the  Woman 's 


LETTERS  299 

1880 
Age   38 

Journal  please  clip  them  for  me.  I  saw  in  a  new  English 
paper  published  in  Paris  called  "The  Parisian"  an  amus- 
ing letter  from  Boston  reporting  the  defeat  of  the  female 
candidates  for  the  School  Board  at  the  recent  elections,  and 
referring  to  an  article  by  Mr.  Parkman  in  the  North 
American  Review. 

.  .  .  Yesterday  we  were  all  presented  to  the  Pope; 
with  our  friends  the  Sturtevants  who  were  at  the  Hotel 
Brunswick  with  us  last  winter.  There  were  four  large 
rooms  full  of  people.  Leo  XIII  has  neither  the  severe 
expression  seen  in  some  of  his  portraits  nor  the  smirk  of 
others ;  his  features  are  strongly  marked  but  his  expression 
is  pleasing  and  his  manners  affable.  He  spoke  kindly  to 
each  of  us,  and  not  only  gave  you  his  hand  to  kiss  but  held 
yours  in  his  while  he  spoke  and  lightly  touched  the  head 
as  he  blessed  you.  He  seemed  pleased  with  K.  took  her 
head  in  both  his  hands,  raised  her  face  that  he  might  look 
at  her,  patted  her  cheek  in  his  fatherly  way,  calling  her 
"My  little  daughter"  as  he  blessed  her.  There  was  more 
formality  about  the  reception  than  under  the  last  Pope; 
there  was  more  of  the  Court  present  than  I  remember  be- 
fore. Leo  XIII  was  certainly  as  affable  and  fatherly  as 
Piux  IX  and  I  think  spoke  more  particularly  to  each  per- 
son than  his  predecessor,  but  his  face  could  never  have  the 
charming  benignity  of  the  late  Pope,  for  he  has  not  his 
regular  features.  He  is  a  greater  student  and  I  presume 
a  much  abler  man. 

.  .  .  Last  week  we  went  to  the  opera  and  had  very 
nearly  the  same  box  we  used  to  have  when  you  were  here. 
The  opera  was  "The  Huguenots"  followed  by  a  ballet  which 
far  surpassed  anything  I  ever  saw  before  or  that  we  had 
the  winter  that  you  were  with  me.  During  the  Carnival 
a  matinee  is  to  be  given  for  children,  and  I  shall  take  K. 
The  Carnival  begins  this  year,  the  31st  of  January,  my 
birthday,  and  as  the  scene  of  the  gaiety  is  to  be  the  via 
Nazionale  which  is  quite  near  us,  to  some  extent  we  shall 
see  it  from  our  windows.     I  have  not  yet  been  able  to 


300  LETTEES 

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Age  38 

visit  any  of  the  new  excavations  which  Lanciani  promises 
to  show  me.  It  has  been  so  cool  that  I  prefer  to  leave  such 
excursions  for  warmer  weather.  We  have  a  constant  suc- 
cession of  clear,  bright  days,  but  not  so  warm  as  usual. 
Still  we  can  take  a  turn  each  morning  on  the  Pincio  and 
sit  there  in  the  sunshine  and  inhale  the  fragrance  of  blos- 
soming shrubs  and  flowers.  Coming  home  the  other  daj^ 
we  got  some  blood  oranges  and  it  recalled  to  me  your  en- 
joyment of  them.  There  was  a  reception  at  Miss  P. 's  the 
other  evening  where  we  had  some  good  music,  especially 
some  remarkably  sweet  airs  on  the  flute  from  a  Signor 
Giorgi,  said  to  be  the  first  flute  player  in  Italy,  and  I 
also  had  a  very  pleasant  conversation  with  Mme.  Galliani, 
an  English  lady,  whose  husband  is  the  correspondent  of 
the  London  Times. 

Rome,  January  21. 
.  .  .  We  went  this  morning  to  Sta.  Agnese,  outside 
Porta  Pia  to  see  the  blessing  of  the  lambs,  and  after  long 
waiting  through  a  tedious  ceremony  with  poor  music,  all 
I  saw  was  the  top  of  the  head  of  one  little  lamb  decked 
with  red  ribbons  as  it  was  carried  to  the  altar.  A  whole 
flock  of  sheep  may  have  been  blessed  afterwards,  but  I 
was  too  tired  to  wait  to  see  more.  A  glimpse  of  the  Alban 
mountains  transfigured  in  the  brilliant  sunshine  was  nev- 
ertheless worth  the  tedium  of  the  morning.  .  .  .  You 
ask  me  to  tell  you  about  some  of  our  old  haunts  and  I 
begin  with  the  Coliseum.  It  is  by  no  means  as  beautiful 
as  you  remember  it;  every  vine,  tree,  flower  and  blade  of 
grass  has  been  carefully  removed.  Not  a  wall  flower  nods 
its  scented  head  from  the  walls;  not  a  green  thing  gleams 
amid  the  old  stones.  All  the  little  chapels  and  the  cross 
are  removed  from  the  arena  and  the  ground  is  leveled  and 
scraped.  The  Baths  of  Caracalla  (do  you  remember  those 
grand  arches  with  their  drapery  of  ivy,  vines  and  flowers 
swaying  in  the  breeze  against  a  deep  blue  sky?)  are  also 
completely  denuded  of  all  graceful  greenery  and  the  floors 


LETTEES  301 

1880 
Age  38 

are  cemented  like  your  cellar.  No  chance  now  of  picking 
out  from  a  heap  of  earth  those  pretty  bits  of  "giallo 
antico"  or  "porta  santa";  it  is  all  cemented  and  cleaned 
and  as  level  as  your  dining  table.  When  I  see  these  places 
which  I  remember  so  charming  in  their  over-run  natural 
condition  of  years  past  I  feel  a  pang  at  my  heart  and 
rush  outside  the  walls  and  take  a  long  look  at  my  beloved 
Campagna  and  Alban  Hills  which  act  as  balm,  and  restore 
my  equanimity.  They  may  clean  up  the  Coliseum  and  the 
Baths  but  they  cannot  change  the  everlasting  hills;  they 
at  least  will  always  remain  to  solace  and  rejoice  my  soul. 
.  .  .  The  roman  streets  are  cleaner  and  Rome  is  alto- 
gether modernized  and  spruced  up,  but  she  is  losing  much 
of  her  old  charm.  Be  thankful  you  saw  the  Eternal  City 
in  the  olden  days  and  can  think  of  her  as  she  then  was. 

January  30. 
.  .  .  Yesterday  afternoon  Mr.  Ropes  sent  his  car- 
riage with  its  span  of  fine  horses  for  our  use,  and  I  took 
Mrs.  McF.  for  a  drive  outside  Porta  San  Giovanni.  It 
was  a  sweet  warm  day,  the  mountains  bathed  in  sunshine 
took  the  pearl  grey  tints  of  the  clouds  sailing  over  them; 
they  were  transcendently  beautiful.  We  drove  as  far  as 
the  fourth  milestone  and  my  companion  was  delighted. 
She  had  not  before  been  out  at  this  gate  and  the  long 
line  of  the  acqueduct  stretching  across  the  Campagna,  the 
mountains  and  sky  and  the  blue  transparent  shadows 
filled  her  with  the  same  delight  as  myself.  She  was  amused 
too  by  the  long  line  of  wine  carts  along  the  road,  the  carters 
asleep  and  the  lively  little  lupetto  dog  keeping  watch  and 
barking  furiously  when  the  horse  did  not  turn  out  enough 
for  passing  vehicles;  the  peasants  drinking  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Osterie,  the  tiny  donkeys  dragging  big  carts,  etc.  All 
the  thousand  and  one  picturesque  things  one  sees  on  a 
roman  drive.  Mrs.  McF.  declared  she  had  scarcely  enjoyed 
anything  so  much  since  she  came  to  Rome. 


302  LETTERS 

1880 
Age  38 

Tuesday  I  called  on  Mrs.  Eugene  Schuyler;  Mr,  S.  is 
our  Consul  now  and  she  was  a  Miss  King,  daughter  of  the 
Hon.  Eufus  King,  our  Minister  when  you  were  here.  Mr. 
Schuyler  has  written  several  very  interesting  books  and 
is  now  writing  a  life  of  Peter  the  Great  which  is  appear- 
ing in  Scribner's  Magazine.  My  kind  friend  Mrs.  Carson, 
who  seems  to  wish  me  to  share  every  pleasure  she  enjoys 
asked  me  lately  to  go  to  the  English  Embassy  with  her. 
We  were  to  see  some  frescoes  and  not  only  saw  them  but 
the  whole  house,  which  was  a  monument  to  Lady  Paget 's 
artistic  skill.  She  has  painted  and  frescoed  much  herself. 
Her  exquisite  taste  in  all  the  furnishings  and  decorations 
as  well  as  in  the  planning  of  the  new  part  of  the  house 
is  evident.  We  met  Sir  Augustus  and  Miss  Paget  in  the 
gardens  later.  I  think  I  never  saw  a  house  combining  such 
solid  comfort  with  greater  elegance.  An  octagonal  sitting 
room  with  great  old-fashioned  fire-place  with  a  bay  window 
filled  with  plants  and  a  shelf  all  round  the  room  for  books ; 
the  furniture  covered  with  plain  chintz,  realized  my  ideal 
of  comfort  and  convenience.  ...  I  went  yesterday  to 
the  Capitol  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  seeing  my  old  friends 
there,  the  Faun,  The  Dying  Gladiator,  and  the  Venus.  I 
noted  among  the  busts  of  the  Emperors  that  of  Tiberius, 
and  I  confess  his  features  and  phrenological  development 
do  not  bear  out  Uncle  F. 's  theory  of  the  nobility  of  his 
character  and  the  liberality  of  his  ideas.  However,  features 
do  not  always  denote  the  character  behind  them,  and  also 
the  bust  in  question  may  not  be  a  good  likeness.  .  .  . 
We  are  going  this  afternoon  to  St.  Andrea  delle  Fratte  to 
hear  Fra  Giovanni  sing;  he  is  said  to  have  the  finest  tenor 
voice  in  the  world.  I  wish  you  could  feel  the  delicious  sun- 
shine that  is  pouring  into  our  rooms;  we  are  sitting  with 
open  windows  and  no  fire,  and  when  I  go  to  the  window 
to  look  for  the  Carnival  cortege  which  is  promised  us  today, 
I  have  to  put  up  a  sunshade  for  the  sun  is  so  hot  on  one's 
head.  The  street  is  a  moving  mass  of  heads,  a  flowing 
river  of  people,  all  looking  gay  and  happy,  bound  for  the 


LETTEES  303 

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Age  38 

via  Nazionale.  I  wish  you  could  sometimes  drive  with  me 
outside  the  walls  and  see  the  beauty  of  these  mountains. 
In  all  my  wanderings  I  have  never  seen  any  marvel  to 
equal  theirs ;  not  in  Spain  or  Switzerland  or  the  Pyrenees. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  little  because  I  love  them  so  that  I  give 
the  Roman  Campagna  the  palm  over  the  Vega  of  Granada, 
and  the  view  from  Biarritz  of  the  Pyrenees.  But  af- 
fection apart,  I  really  think  they  have  peculiar  tints  that 
one  sees  nowhere  else.  I  must  tell  you  of  a  compliment  paid 
me  the  other  day  by  Mr.  Marsh,  our  Minister,  which  of 
course  I  only  partly  deserve.  The  credit  is  yours.  Mr. 
Marsh  in  his  brusque  way  informed  me  that  I  spoke  Eng- 
lish with  a  correctness  and  purity  seldom  heard  in  these 
days  and  asked  me  where  I  was  educated.  I  could  only 
reply  that  I  owed  everything  to  the  careful  training  given 
me  by  my  Father,  who  never  permitted  me  to  use  ungram- 
matical  or  slovenly  expressions.  If  one  could  inherit  such 
things,  or  if  honest  effort  always  produced  the  desired  re- 
sult, I  might  deserve  his  praise,  for  Grandfather  certainly 
wrote  the  most  beautiful  English,  and  your  own  exquisite 
facility  and  style  cannot  be  excelled.  I  have  indeed  tried 
to  imitate  you  both  with  I  fear  but  poor  result,  for  I  sel- 
dom send  a  letter  of  which  half  at  least  has  not  been  sev- 
eral times  re-written.  .  .  .  This  morning  we  have  seen 
the  King  go  in  state  to  open  Parliament,  the  Queen  went 
also;  she  has  been  very  ill  and  has  looked  badly,  but 
looked  more  like  herself  today.  The  little  Prince  looked  a 
delicate  boy ;  it  was  altogether  a  pretty  pageant. 

February  23. 
I  called  today  on  Mrs.  Herriman,  a  very  lovely  Ameri- 
can who  has  lived  eighteen  years  in  Eome.  Tuesday  we 
went  to  the  P. 's  evening  reception.  Wednesday  we  have 
our  box  at  the  opera.  Thursday  I  am  invited  to  a  large 
reception  at  the  Schuyler's,  and  Friday  is  our  own  day  at 
home.  Last  week  we  had  a  number  of  people, — among 
them  the  S.'s,  Mrs.  Robert  Gracie,  sister  of  my  dear  old 


304  LETTEES 

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Ago  38 

friend,  Mrs.  William  Gracie,  a  beautiful  young  Mrs.  Scher- 
merhorn,  of  New  York,  Mr.  Hale  and  the  Rev.  Charles 
Wood  of  Buffalo  among  others.  I  went  lately  to  Mr. 
Harnish's  studio  to  see  a  model  for  a  monument  to  John 
C.  Calhoun  for  Charlestown,  South  Carolina.  The  pose 
is  good,  but  the  likeness  did  not  strike  me  as  successful, 
and  I  told  him  of  the  engraving  in  your  possession  which 
is  said  to  be  good.  The  expression  in  that  is  much  sterner 
and  more  impressive  than  Mr.  H.  has  given  his  statue,  but 
he  told  me  he  had  had  only  a  very  poor  photograph  to 
work  from.  If  you  can  let  me  have  the  name  of  the  pub- 
lisher and  the  date  on  your  engraving  Mr.  H.  would 
much  like  to  get  one  like  it.  At  Mrs.  Schuyler's  reception 
last  Thursday  I  met  the  whole  American-Roman  colony 
and  many  of  the  transient  visitors ;  Rome  is  full  of  foreign- 
ers and  the  hotels  are  crowded.  We  went  to  the  water 
colour  exhibition  which  has  just  opened.  It  is  in  the  rooms 
which  formerly  were  Miss  Hosmer's  studio.  Did  I  write 
you  that  Miss  Hosmer  has  given  up  art  and  is  devoting 
her  mind  and  fortune  to  the  perfecting  of  what  she  sup- 
poses to  be  the  discovery  of  perpetual  motion  ?  She  thinks 
she  has  discovered  a  means  to  this  end  in  a  system  of 
powerful  magnets  and  expects  to  have  it  applied  where  at 
present  steam  is  used.  Every  one  regrets  her  enthusiasm, 
for  no  one  feels  confident  of  the  practicability  and  ap- 
plicability of  her  system.  Her  whole  fortune  is  in- 
volved in  the  project  now.  She  has  given  up  her  apart- 
ment and  is  living  with  the  Storys  this  winter.  Last  even- 
ing we  had  a  pleasant  little  dinner  party  consisting  of  Mrs. 
Carson  and  Mr.  Ropes.  Mrs.  C.  was  in  her  most  brilliant 
mood  and  Mr.  Ropes  is  a  capital  raconteur,  so  we  passed 
a  charming  evening.  Mrs.  Carson  is  full  of  wit  and 
humour  and  a  delightful  woman.  She  has  the  ease  and 
grace  of  the  southern  woman  without  the  prejudices  as 
her  family  were  intensely  loyal  during  the  war  and  suffered 
much  in  consequence.  She  is  of  Huguenot  descent 
(French)  which  explains  her  wit  and  brilliancy. 


LETTEES  305 

1880 
Age  38 


March  1. 
We  have  spent  this  day  almost  entirely  out  of  doors 
for  we  started  at  nine  thirty  this  morning  for  the  Meet  of 
the  Fox  Hounds  a  mile  beyond  the  tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella. 
The  weather  was  glorious;  the  sky  such  a  blue  as  one  sees 
only  in  Italy  and  Spain,  sun  so  warm  that  we  threw  off 
cloaks  and  wraps,  and  an  air  so  pure  and  invigorating  that 
it  made  one  feel  gay  and  young  and  strong.  The  Cam- 
pagna  in  all  its  fresh  bright  green  of  springing  wheat  here 
and  there  flecked  by  white  or  pink  almond  or  peach  trees, 
Rome  shining  white  in  the  distance  with  the  mountains 
first  veiled  in  mist  and  then  as  the  sun  rose  higher  radiant 
in  wonderful  tints  of  rose  and  purple  made  a  scene  of  un- 
exampled wonder.  It  somehow  reminds  me  of  Warburton's 
description  of  Damascus,  with  its  white  walls  and  minarets, 
green  groves  and  palms,  shining  from  afar  over  the  desert 
which  surrounds  it.  The  Meet  was  the  usual  gay  scene, 
scarlet  coated  huntsmen,  grooms,  dogs  and  carriages  which 
you  will  remember.  The  winter,  alas,  is  gone ;  it  has  seemed 
so  short  I  could  wish  it  were  longer  for  it  has  been  so 
pleasant. 

March  8. 
I  went  to  the  studio  of  Ezekiel  the  other  day,  and  was 
delighted  with  his  works.  He  is  an  American  of  Spanish- 
Dutch  extraction,  born  in  Richmond,  Virginia.  Some  of  his 
works  are  for  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  think  that  when  his  "Twelve  Apostles  of  Art"  are  put 
up  there,  something  really  good  in  the  way  of  sculpture 
will  appear  in  that  place.  Ezekiel's  "Eve"  is  the  only  one 
I  ever  liked ;  not  just  a  Venus  with  an  apple  in  her  hand, 
but  a  real  Eve  bowed  and  overcome  with  shame  and  fear 
when  she  hears  the  Lord's  voice  calling  to  her.  It  is 
really  moving.  The  modelling  of  this  artist  is  remarkably 
fine,  and  some  bits  in  a  torso  of  Judith  were  quite  in  the 
antique   manner.     I   have   also   seen   the   studio   of   Mr, 


306  LETTERS 

1880 
Age  38 

Greenough  and  found  very  much  to  admire  there.  There 
is  a  bust  which  he  calls  "Beatrice  della  Vita  Nuova"  which 
bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  L,  F.  C.  I  asked  him  if  he 
had  ever  seen  her,  but  he  thought  not.  Mr.  Greenough  had 
a  full  length  figure  of  Circe  which  I  admired.  Mr.  Frank- 
lin Simmons  is  another  sculptor  whose  studio  we  visited  to 
see  especially  his  conception  of  the  Israelites  wandering 
in  the  desert  typified  by  a  large  female  figure.  But  above 
all  things  he  has  done,  I  like  his  excellent  copy  of  the 
Naples  Museum  "Psyche"  which  I  should  like  to  buy  for 
the  Public  Library  collection  in  Meadville.  It  is  the  most 
perfect  reproduction  of  an  antique  that  I  have  ever  seen. 

April  18. 
My  Dear  Father: 

I  have  only  time  to  send  you  a  line  as  I  am  off  tomorrow 
for  Florence.  I  had  a  last  beautiful  drive  on  the  Cam- 
pagna  a  few  days  ago,  the  mountains  were  more  beautiful 
than  ever — but  then  they  always  seem  to  be  most  beautiful 
the  last  time  I  see  them.  I  believe  nothing  in  Eome  costs 
me  so  much  to  leave  as  those  mountains  and  I  find  it  so 
with  many  people.  I  have  seen  tears  fall  from  the  eyes 
of  Mrs.  McF.  as  she  looked  at  them;  Mr.  Eopes  said  noth- 
ing was  so  hard  to  leave  as  those  mountains  and  Mrs.  Car- 
son when  once  she  had  almost  decided  to  exchange  Rome 
for  Florence  declares  the  scale  was  turned  in  favour  of 
Rome  by  the  recollection  that  otherwise  she  would  no  more 
see  that  lovely  range  of  hills.  It  is  hard  to  leave  Rome. 
One  cannot  disguise  the  fact  and  in  my  heart  it  holds  a 
place  which  no  other  spot  except  my  home  has  ever  filled. 
I  am  sore  at  heart  to  leave  it.  However,  I  may  return  to  it 
again  in  the  years  to  come,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  feel  there 
is  that  possibility. 


THE  END 


CHRONOLOGY  307 


CHRONOLOGY  1842-1881 

1842  Birth  of  Emma  Cullum  Huidekoper, 

1865-1866  First  sojourn  in  Europe. 

1866-1869  Marriage  and  second  sojourn  in  Europe. 

1868  Birth  of  Katherine  Renee  Cortazzo. 

1869-1871  Third  sojourn  in  Europe. 

1872-1874  Fourth  sojourn  in  Europe. 

1876  Journey  to  Spain. 

1879-1881  Sixth  sojourn  in  Europe. 


University  of 
Connecticut 

Libraries 


'■>  .;.    ^'  -if' 


